530 
•Mil 


THE 


MOUNTAINS  OF  THE  BIBLE 


SCENES  AND  THEIR  LESSONS, 


ay  THt: 
REV.  JOHN  M'FARLANE,  LL.D. 


GLASGOU-. 


NEW    YORK: 

ROBERT    CARTER    &    BROTHERS, 
No.    285    BROADWAY. 

1849. 


PREFACE. 


The  history  of  this  publication  is  a  very  common  one.  The 
volume  contains  the  substance  of  a  series  of  Lectures  which 
the  writer  delivered  in  the  ordinary  course  of  his  ministry, 
upon  each  successive  Sabbath  during  the  winter  1847-48. 
This  will  sufficiently  account  for  any  peculiarity  of  style  that 
may  be  observable. 

The  people  among  whom  he  has  the  happiness  to  labor, 
have  urged  him  to  publish  the  Lectures ;  and  after  some  hesi- 
tation, he  has  consented.  They  are  now  given  to  them  and 
to  the  world,  from  the  same  motive  that  led  to  their  prepara- 
tion for  the  pulpit — a  desire  to  be  useful. 

The  gloomy  season  during  which  these  Lectures  were  de- 
livered, will  be  long  remembered  as  one  of  disaster  and  be- 
reavement. The  design  wrought  out  in  them,  he  has  been 
led  to  believe,  accomplished  the  comforting  and  counselling 
of  not  a  few,  who  were  walking  "  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death."  It  is  his  earnest  prayer,  that  their  pubH- 
cation  in  this  form  may  exceed  the  usefulness  of  their  origi- 
nal delivery. 

The  topographical  descriptions  of  the  Mountains  are,  of 
course,  the  results  of  research  into  the  works  of  other  writers, 
and  especially  of  intelligent  travellers.  In  some  few  instances, 
in  this  section  of  the  volume,  the  writer  may  not  have  ade- 
quately acknowledged  his  obligations,  as  he  parted  with  his 
principal  authorities  before  the  purpose  of  pubhcation  had 


IV  PREFACE. 

been  formed.  He  has  endeavored,  however,  to  mark  the 
quotations  as  faithfully  as  he  could.  If  any  omissions  of 
this  nature  arc  noticed,  he  trusts  this  explanation  will  be  ac- 
cepted. 

Whoever  opens  this  book  in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  new 
and  erudite  views,  or  with  critical  and  metaphysical  discussions, 
must  be  disappointed.  The  object  of  the  writer  is  to  col- 
lect, under  one  general  designation,  some  of  the  more  familiar, 
but  withal  most  important  truths  of  the  gospel,  and  to  pre- 
sent them  in  a  plain,  affectionate,  and  practical  form,  so  that, 
while  he  ministers  to  the  understanding,  the  heart  also  may 
be  appealed  to  for  its  consent  to  sound  doctrine.  The  Scenes 
and  Lessons  of  the  Mountains  of  the  Bible  furnish  ample  and 
fascinating  materials  for  both  objects ;  and  he  hopes  he  has 
been  enabled,  in  however  humble  a  measure,  to  avail  himself 
of  these  for  the  edification  of  the  reader. 

He  now  commits  the  work  to  Him  who  "  despises  not  the 
day  of  small  things  ;"  and  who  will  bless  every  sincere  effort 
to  promote  his  glory  by  doing  good  to  mankind. 

Glasgow,  1st  Dec,  1848. 


CONTENTS. 


II. 

The  Deluge, 

III. 

The  Lessons,         .   . 

MORIAH 

Part  I. 

The  Mountain,    . 

11. 

The  Trial,       . 

III. 

The  Improvement, 

Pagk 

Introduction, Y 

ARARAT. 

Part  T.  The  Mountain, 18 

.     22 
30 


45 

48 
58 


HOREB. 

Part  I.  The  Mountain, 73 

II.  PoRTAiT  OF  Moses,      .         .         .  .         .     78 

III.  The  Burning  Bush,         .         .  .         .         87 

SINAI. 

Part  I.  The  Giving  of  the  Law,   .         .  .         .98 

II.  The  Ploclamations  from  Sinai,  .         .       106 

HOR. 

Part  I.  Passage  in  the  Life  of  Aaron,  .         .122 

II.  The  Death  of  the  High  Priest,  .         .       128 

III.  The  Lessons  from  Hor,     .         .  .         .137 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PISGAH. 

Page 

Part  I.  The  Death  of  the  Lawgiver,         .         .       152 
II.  The  Lessons  from  Pisgah,  .         .         .157 

GILBOA. 

Part  I.  Portrait  of  David,  .         ,         .         .1*74 

II.  The  Lessons  from  Gilboa,         .         .         .186 

CARMEL. 

Part  I.  The  Mountain, 206 

II.  The  Scene  on  Oarmel,      ....  209 
III.  The  Instructions  from  Carmel,      .         .       218 

TABOR. 

Part  I.  The  Scenes  on  Tabor,    ....       235 
II.  The  Testimonies  of  Tabor,        .         .         .  248 

OLIVET. 

Part  I.  The  Precursors  of  the  Agony,     .         .       267 
II.  The    Nature    and    Concomitants    of   the 

Agony, 274 

III.  The  Causes  of  the  Agony,    .         .         .       283 

IV.  The  Counsels  of  Olivet,   ....  201 

ZION. 

Part  I.  The  Public  Worship  of  God,     .  .       300 

II.  The  Beauties  of  the  Ordinance,       .         .  307 

III.  The  Blessings  of  the  Ordinance,.         .       318 

ZION   IN   HEAVEN. 

Part  I.  The  Future  State  of  Blessedness,    .         .  328 

II.  The  Privileges  of  Heaven,    .         .         .       334 

III.  The  Voice  from  Heaven,  ....  345 


THE 


MOUNTAINS    OF   THE    BIBLE 


INTRODUCTION. 

ALL  SCRIPTURE   PROFITABLE LANDS  OF  THE   BIBLE    INTEREST- 
ING  ITS  MOUNTAINS    INSTRUCTIVE MORAL   RESPONSIBILITY 

TO    INDIVIDUAL    ACTION. 

Every  pious  mind  admits  the  truth,  and  feels  the 
preciousness  of  these  words  of  Paul  to  Timothy, — ''  All 
scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God."  This  is,  in- 
deed, one  of  the  Bible's  wonderful  testimonies.  It  is 
also  one  of  the  Christian's  "  cities  of  refuge,"  into  which 
he  escapes  from  sceptical  suggestions  and  unbelieving 
fears.  He  values  it  "  more  than  gold,  yea,  than  much 
fine  gold,"  and  uses  it  as  a  reproof  to  the  pride  of 
reason,  as  well  as  an  encouragement  to  the  work  of 
faith.  It  is  impossible  to  overvalue  the  great  truth  as- 
serted in  it.  At  the  same  time,  in  this  verse  of  scrip- 
ture, another  very  notable,  though,  by  reason  of  its 
juxtaposition,  not  so  very  observable  a  doctrine,  is  em- 
phatically stated,  viz.,  that  "  all  scripture  is  profitable." 
This  would  seem  to  follow  as  a  corollary  from  the 
former,  and  so  it  does ;  for,  if  aU  scripture  is  inspired, 
then  it  must  be  all  useful.  But  many  are  inattentive 
to  this  truth,  and,  in  opposition  to  its  exceedingly  clear 
statement,  they  think  and  act  as  if  sonie  portions  of 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

scripture  \Yere  insignificant  and  required  no  searching. 
The  consequence  is,  that  by  them  many  Bible  gems 
are  never  discovered.  Like  the  precious  metals,  these 
lie  somewhat  out  of  the  way,  and,  to  be  found  and  ap- 
preciated, must  be  dug  for  in  their  own  recesses,  and 
brought  out  to  the  light  by  the  hand  of  the  diligent. 

All  scripture  is  profitable,  though  it  may  not  be  all 
of  equal  value  to  the  interests  of  man  as  fallen  and 
guilty.  The  chronicles  of  the  kings  of  Israel  are  not 
so  precious  as  the  gospels  of  the  evangelists,  or  the 
church  history  of  Ijuke  the  *'  beloved  physician."  The 
proverbs  of  Solomon  do  not  contribute  so  much  to 
our  spiritual  instruction  as  the  sermons  of  the  Saviour 
and  the  Pauline  epistles.  Still,  in  their  own  places, 
as  connected  with  the  system  of  revealed  truth,  they 
arc  copious  of  wisdom,  and  well  fitted  to  "  furnish  the 
man  of  God  unto  all  good  works."  That  indeed  w^hich 
is  t>y  way  of  eminence  called  "  the  gospel,"  is  heard, 
more  or  less  distinctly,  throughout  the  mspired  volume. 
Hence,  when  the  people  of  God  possessed  but  a  small 
portion  of  scripture,  they  prized  it  as  "a  lamp  to  their 
feet  and  a  light  unto  their  path."  Who  can  read  the 
psalms  of  David  without  being  convinced  of  this  ?  Be- 
yond the  Pentateuch,  and  two  or  three  of  the  books  that 
immediately  come  after  it,  his  department  of  the  canon 
did  not  extend,  and  yet  these  were  prized  by  him  as 
more  valuable  than  "thousands  of  gold  and  silver." 
What  an  interesting  production  is  psalm  cxix. !  In  it 
we  have  the  royal  poet's  estimate  of  his  Bible.  And 
not  only  this,  but  from  it  we  learn  how  mercifully 
adapted  to  man's  spiritual  necessities  may  be  those 
portions  of  revelation  which  are  not  deemed  so  im- 
portant as  the  subsequent  additions  to  the  canon. 
Even  his  little  volume  of  God's  word  he  found  out  to 
be  "  wonderful,"  and  declared  that  meditation  upon  it 


INTRODUCTION.  !f 

night  and  day  made  him  ''  wiser  than  his  enemies," 
and  ''  gave  him  more  understanding  than  all  his 
teachers."  It  must  be  sinful,  therefore,  to  under-rate 
what  the  Spirit  of  God  has,  in  these  recorded  experi- 
ences of  his  child,  so  unequivocally  commended. 

In  every  respect,  it  must  be  owned,  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  God's  holy  Bible  and  man's  publi- 
cations. When  knowledge  increases,  the  latter,  as 
authorities,  may  not  only  lose  their  value,  but  become 
injurious.  But  the  former  constitutes  the  "  law  of 
the  Lord,"  which,  as  a  ivhole,  is  "  perfect,"  and  in 
each  of  its  particulars  is  without  ''  spot  or  blemish." 
Besides,  the  worth  of  what  is  inspired  Ues  not  in  mere 
jots  or  tittles,  or  words  or  sentences  ;  these  may  be 
deciphered  and  understood,  but  they  depend  for  their 
spiritual  influence  upon  God  himself.  The  planting 
of  Paul  and  the  watering  of  Apollos  are  necessary ; 
but  neither  gives  the  increase.  This  cometh  of  Him 
who  is  the  "  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith."  When 
the  scripture  is  effectual  to  conversion,  it  is  because  it 
has  come  to  the  sinner,  not  with  enticing  words  of 
man's  wisdom,  but  in  "  demonstration  of  the  Spirit 
and  of  power."  The  Holy  Ghost,  however,  is  not 
dependent  on  particular  portions  of  his  word.  As 
it  all  contains  his  mind,  so  he  can  make  any  por- 
tion of  it  serve  the  great  end  of  its  gift  to  man. 
The  divine  composer  of  the  work  saw  the  end  from 
the  beginning ;  and  hence  the  gradual  additions  to  the 
canon,  while  they  diffused  clearer  knowledge,  did  not 
neutralize  but  confirm  the  original  revelations.  The 
earlier  rays  on  the  eastern  horizon  may  be  somewhat 
faint,  but  they  come  from  the  approaching  orb  of 
day.  All  scripture  is  therefore  not  only  inspired,  but 
must  be  "  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  cor- 
rection, for  instruction  in  righteousness  :  that  the  man 

1* 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  all 
good  works." 

With  these  impressions,  we  purpose  to  investigate 
and  improve  some  portions  of  the  Bible  which  are  not 
very  often  made  the  subjects  of  pulpit  discourse,  nor 
of  private  study,  but  which  are  most  interesting,  nay, 
profitable,  to  the  humble  and  believing  reader.  We 
propose  to  visit  and  ascend  some  of  the  mountains 
which  scripture  has  immortalized,  and  which  were 
once  the  scenes  of  wonderful  events.  As  we  draw 
near  to  these  sublime  monuments  of  nature,  let  us 
remember  that  they  are  also  memorials  of  his  majesty 
and  mercy  who  is  nature's  Lord.  When  standing 
at  their  base,  and  listening  to  their  solemn  procla- 
mations, let  us  employ  the  language  of  the  spouse, 
and  say,  "  The  voice  of  my  beloved !  Behold,  he 
Cometh  leaping  upon  the  mountains,  skipping  upon 
the  hills." 

In  the  prosecution  of  our  plan  we  must  needs  travel 
to  the  lands  of  the  Bible, — and  what  other  lands  are 
invested  with  such  deep  and  hallowed  interest  ?-  Their 
marvellous  stories  are  ever  listened  to  with  an  atten- 
tion, and  remembered  with  a  tenacity,  which  defy  the 
influences  of  time.  In  the  midst  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  Egypt,  Palestine,  and  Mesopotamia,  are  alike 
eagerly  resorted  to  by  the  curious  and  the  pious. 
Grand  may  be  the  scenery  and  magnificent  the  cities 
of  other  countries,  but  what  are  their  attractions  in 
comparison  with  that  enchanting  influence  wherewith 
the  Holy  Land  directs  so  many  hearts  and  eyes 
towards  her  hills  and  streams,  her  cities  and  plams  ? 
There  Is  a  somewhat  mysterious  agitation  of  the 
human  mind  in  its  mere  fancies  of  the  sublime  and 
beautiful  in  the  scenery  of  Syria.  Few  natures  are  so 
stolid  as  to  remain  unmoved  when  the  waters  of  the 


INTRODUCTION.  %% 

Jordan  are  forded,  or  the  gardens  of  Canaan  prome- 
naded, or  the  heights  of  Zion  scaled.  This  is  the  land 
of  God  !  Here  Jehovah  visited  his  people,  now  with 
judgments,  and  then  with  mercies.  It  is  the  witness 
of  his  covenant,  and  the  ark  of  his  promises.  Here 
holy  men  of  God,  wrapped  in  the  mantles  of  inspira- 
tion, spake  the  secrets  of  heaven  to  astonished  genera- 
tions. Here  Christianity  was  cradled  in  the  types 
and  bound  up  in  the  swaddling  clothes  of  an  initiatory 
dispensation.  Here  God  made  ready  to  assume  the 
nature  and  atone  for  the  sins  of  its  people.  This  is 
the  land  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  !  Here  he  was  born. 
Amid  these  vales,  on  these  mountain  sides,  within  the 
gates  of  these  cities,  on  the  banks  of  these  rivers,  or 
on  the  bosom  of  these  seas,  the  incarnate  Son  of  God 
lived  and  loved,  prayed  and  wept,  agonized  and  bled, 
died  and  was  buried.  Surely  we  may  appropriate  the 
beautiful  words  of  Amos,  and  say  of  it,  "  The  Lord  of 
hosts  is  he  that  toucheth  the  land ;"  or,  in  the  still 
more  graphic  words  of  Isaiah,  "  Thou  shalt  no  more 
be  termed  forsaken,  neither  shall  thy  land  be  any 
more  termed  desolate ;  but  thou  shalt  be  called  Heph- 
zibah  and  thy  land  Beulah  ;  for  the  Lord  delighteth  in 
thee,  and  thy  land  shall  be  married." 

For  such  reasons,  any  of  the  lands  of  the  Bible 
would  merit,  and  richly  repay,  our  devout  meditations. 
At  present  we  restrict  ourselves  to  their  Mountains, 
not  only  because  with  them  are  associated  the  most 
marvellous  events  and  the  most  distinguished  men  of 
inspired  history,  but  because  they  supply  ample  mate- 
rials for  enforcing  upon  our  minds  the  noblest  virtues 
and  the  most  attractive  graces  of  eminent  piety.  As 
to  these  things  we  may  say  truly,  ''  there  were  giants 
in  the  earth  in  those  days."  To  speak  of  the  activity 
or  of  the  self-denial  of  Christians  in  our  times,  com- 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

pared  with  the  ''might  and  mastery"  of  the  men  who 
spake  and  lived  for  God  in  the  olden  days,  is  to  com- 
pare small  things  with  great.  We  have  need  of 
counteractives  to  our  conceit.  There  is  a  tendency  in 
a  reviving  church,  such  as  the  church  of  Christ  is  at 
present,  to  take  an  overweening  estimate  of  its  sacri- 
fices for  God.  We  sometimes  see  her  almost  in  a  fit 
of  ecstacy,  and  well  nigh  to  clapping  her  hands  for 
very  joy,  when  she  has  done  some  excellent  piece  of 
liberality.  Our  tones  of  exultation  would  be  lowered 
if  we  would  come  more  close  to  the  Bible  examples 
and  study  them.  And  of  these  we  find  a  copious  sup- 
ply on  the  mountains  of  the  East.  There  is  one  lesson 
which,  above  all  others,  such  a  study  is  fitted  to  teach 
us,  viz.,  that  there  is  a  moral  obligation  to  individual 
action  from  which  we  cannot  be  relieved,  if  we  would 
glorify  God.  The  duty  of  devoting  ourselves  to  God, 
is  imposed  not  alone  upon  the  church  collectively, 
but  upon  the  members  of  the  church  individually. 
It  cannot  fail  to  attract  our  notice  in  visiting  the 
Bible  Mountains,  that  the  mighty  things  done  upon 
or  beside  them,  were  done  not  by  masses  of  men  but 
by  solitary  men.  Noah,  Abraham,  Moses,  Aaron, 
David,  Elijah,  stand  out  conspicuously  as  illustrations 
of  this  great  principle  in  Christian  ethics,  that  every 
man,  in  his  own  place  and  generation,  is  bound  to  be 
a  witness  for  the  Lord,  "  that  he  is  God."  This  obli- 
gation cleaves  to  man  while  he  lives,  and  wlien  he 
dies  he  will  be  made  to  feel,  in  the  judgment,  that  he 
was  not  overlooked  in  the  multitudes  of  men  that 
went  down  with  his  era  to  the  grave. 

The  importance  of  this  great  truth  cannot  be  over- 
estimated. This  will  appear  if  we  think  for  a  moment 
of  the  evils  that  result  from  its  neglect.  Wherever 
the  sense  of  such  obligation  to  individual  moral  action 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

is  lost,  there  is  a  danger,  if  not  a  certainty,  that  by- 
and-by  all  fear  of  God  and  all  benevolent  sympathies 
will  depart.  Let  but  this  anchor  of  personal  respon- 
sibility be  lifted,  and  this  helm  of  personal  regulation 
be  cast  away,  and  man  becomes  a  moral  wreck.  That 
he  is  not  more  palpably  so  at  present,  is  owing  not  to 
him,  but  to  the  restraints  of  Providence,  and  the 
influences  of  religious  truths  and  examples.  Place 
many  men  of  apparently  moral  habitudes  where  pure 
examples  have  no  existence,  and  where  unmasked 
impiety  has  no  aspect  of  singularity,  and  speedily 
they  would  come  out  in  their  genuine  colors.  As  the 
unlovely  bat  or  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest  venture 
forth  from  their  hiding-places  only  when  darkness 
covers  the  earth,  so  would  the  baser  passions  of  our 
nature  then  bound  forth  to  luxuriate  in  the  consfenial 
gratifications  of  lust  and  lies. 

Even  as  it  is,  we  have  daily  to  lament  over  tho 
grievous  loss  to  the  best  interests  of  man,  and  to  the 
high  cause  of  God,  which  general  inattention  to  this 
cardinal  principle  occasions.  Uninfluenced  by  it,  man 
is  doing  nothing  in  the  sphere  in  which  he  ought  to  be 
energetically  working  for  the  glory  of  his  Creator.  He 
is  defrauding  that  great  Being  of  the  talents  given  to 
him.  He  is  cheating  society  of  the  benefits  which 
this  personal  responsibility  binds  him  to  dispense, 
and  he  is  robbing  the  church  of  so  much  of  the  treas- 
ure which  her  Lord  bequeathed.  Ere  long  he  becomes 
blind  to  all  those  splendid  opportunities  for  doing  good 
which  are  every  now  and  then  casting  up  in  the  course 
of  his  life;  and  ultimately  you  find  him  undoing  all 
that  God  has  done  for  him,  and  doing  all  that  God  for 
him  would  undo  ;  obscuring,  if  not  extinguishing,  one 
by  one,  the  very  lights  of  reason  within  him,  and  pre- 
ferring such  darkness  to  the  light  of  Christ,  who  is 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

"the  light  of  the  world."  There  he  is,  instead  of 
working  on  behalf  of  the  noblest  of  all  causes,  folding 
his  hands  to  sleep,  and,  as  far  as  he  is  concerned, 
allowing  mankind  to  be  lost  in  circumstances  favorable 
to  their  salvation.  Alas !  that  we  cannot  speak  of 
such  a  character  as  an  exception ;  as  a  rare  and 
curious,  though  melancholy  specimen  of  the  disastrous 
effects  of  sin.  He  is  the  prevalent  character  of  the 
age ;  and  the  sin  of  such  moral  lethargy  is,  to  a  pain- 
ful extent,  the  sin  of  the  church  herself. 

The  moral  idler  ! — melancholy  spectacle  !  View 
him  setting  out  for  eternity  !  His  talents,  given  him 
to  use  for  God,  are  laid  up  in  a  napkin  and  hid  in  the 
earth.  In  the  earth  they  lie.  Symptoms  of  motion 
may  appear  upon  the  cerements  within  which  he  hath 
swathed  them,  but  these  arise  from  the  process  of  cor- 
ruption. View  him  in  his  progress  I  His  capacities 
remain  in  the  sepulchre  where  he  entombed  them, 
supplying  food  only  to  the  insects  that  prey  upon  the 
remains  of  godly  influence — that  swell  out  the  body  of 
sin  into  the  dropsy  of  death,  and  increase  the  malaria 
that  ascend  from  the  decomposition  of  the  grave. 
View  him  at  some  of  the  gi*eat  stations  of  his  jour- 
ney !  He  alone,  out  of  many  that  are  eagerly  serving 
God,  keeps  his  place ;  or  if  he  be  constrained  for  a 
moment  to  taste  the  air  and  look  upon  the  activities 
and  bustle  around  him,  which  have  excited  a  little 
curiosity  even  in  him,  he  quickly  relapses,  and  as  the 
Egyptian  mummy,  when  subjected  to  the  action  of 
the  atmosphere,  crumbles  into  dust,  so  is  the  work  of 
his  moral  dissolution  quickened.  Above  all,  view  him 
on  the  brink  of  eternity  !  What  a  shock  does  the 
summons  to  die  give  him !  He  is  aroused,  for  a  time, 
from  his  spiritual  apoplexy,  and  is  now  conscious  that 
however  busy  he  may  have  been  in  his  dreams,  he  has 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

actually  been  doing  nothing,  either  for  himself  or  for 
others,  and  that  he  is  standing  at  length  on  the  thresh- 
old of  judgment,  a  moral  bankrupt.  Not  only  so  ; 
he  now  makes  the  mortifying  discovery,  that  while  he 
has  been  doing  nothing  for,  he  has  been  doing  every- 
thing against  himself.  He  has  been  ''  all  the  day  idle  I" 
and  now  the  night  has  set  in,  when  he  cannot  work. 

What  a  contrast  have  we  to  this  character  in  the 
Christian,  who  is  "  not  slothful  in  business,  fervent  in 
spirit,  serving  the  Lord !"  Feelmg  that  he  is  morally 
responsible  for  individual  action,  he  is  blessed  and  is 
a  blessing.  Upon  himself  this  impression  has  the  best 
effects.  Its  influence  is  electrical.  He  springs  as 
from  the  dead  ;  his  bosom  heaves ;  his  limbs  become 
supple  ;  his  hands,  and  eyes,  and  ears,  his  heart  and 
soul,  and  mind,  now  "  live,  and  move,  and  have  their 
being"  in  God.  He  not  only  ceases  to  be  idle,  but  he 
learns  to  do  good,  and  to  communicate.  He  becomes 
a  second  patriarch  of  Uz — eyes  to  the  blind,  feet  to 
the  lame,  and  a  father  to  the  poor  ;  yea,  he  has  the 
same  mind  in  him  that  was  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  goes 
continually  about  doing  good.  And  how  happy  all 
this  makes  him !  Let  those  tell  who  thus  spend  their 
days. 

But  we  must  also  consider  the  influence  of  such  a 
character  on  all  around  him.  He  is  a  living  rebuke 
to  the  idler,  and  a  constant  encouragement  to  the 
well-disposed.  Like  the  sun,  he  diffuses  light  wherever 
he  goes ;  like  the  morning  breeze,  he  breathes  health 
upon  whatever  he  falls ;  like  the  genial  spring,  as  he 
revolves,  he  imparts  vitality  and  verdure ;  hke  the 
balmy  summer,  he  beautifies,  replenishes,  and  ma- 
tures ;  like  the  golden  autumn,  he  calls  forth  the 
reapers  and  gathers  in  the  harvest ;  and,  like  the 
snowy  winter,  in  his  more  zealous  efforts  to  do  good, 


16 


INTRODUCTION. 


he  dispels  noxious  vapors,  and  restores  the  salubrity 
of  the  atmosphere.  In  a  word,  having  begun  with 
the  individual  himself,  it  proceeds  to  the  family  ;  from 
the  family  to  the  circle  of  friends ;  from  these  to  the 
neighborhood  ;  and  from  that,  onward  to  more  distant 
and  interesting  spheres.  What  has  been  beautifully 
said  of  the  influence  of  one  generation,  may  be  af- 
firmed of  the  influence  of  one  such  man  :  "As  every 
generation  owes  some  part  of  its  character  to  that 
which  preceded  it,  so  it  imparts  some  portion  of  its 
own  to  that  which  follows  it,  and  thus  propagates  the 
blessed  and  augmented  influences  of  itself  and  all  its 
predecessors." 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  this  is  an  ideal  character. 
Rare  it  may  be,  but  not  fanciful.  Such  is  what  man 
ought  to  be.  He  may  have  let  down  the  standard  of 
mora]  industry,  and  paralysed  the  capacities  of  moral 
authority  ;  but  God  has  done  neither.  The  law  from 
his  Maker  remains  as  it  was  :  "  Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind  ;  and  thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself."  This  law  the  Gospel  has  estab- 
lished, not  made  void.  In  obedience  to  it,  the  illus- 
trious men  who  figured  upon  these  mountains,  and 
their  descendants  according  to  the  spirit,  in  subse- 
quent ages,  whether  apostles,  or  confessors,  or  martyrs, 
or  reformers,  lived,  and  suflered,  and  died.  The  sense 
of  their  responsibility  to  individual  action,  made  them, 
under  God,  what  they  became,  and  won  for  the  cause 
of  truth  many  immortal  triumphs.  From  which  we 
must  infer,  that  if  all  church  members,  especially  in 
these  times,  would  but  "  drink  into  their  spirit,"  and 
plant  their  feet  in  tlie  prints  of  their  steps,  the  cause 
of  God  would  speedily  make  itself  to  be  felt  in  every 
recess  of  idolatry,  in   every  corner  of  the  earth.     It 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

shall  be,  when  our  estimates  of  duty  are  taken  from 
such  a  position,  that  we  shall  feel  ashamed  of  our 
present  limited  efforts.  The  church  is  by  no  means  as 
yet  fully  alive  to  the  sacrifices  her  Lord  demands  of 
her.  In  comparison  with  what  she  is  certain  as  yet 
to  do,  she  is  now  doing  nothing.  O  that  God  would 
pour  out  upon  her,  patriarchal  and  prophetic  faithful- 
ness, apostolic  zeal,  pentecostal  power,  and  primitive 
Christian  love  and  union  I  ''  Then  shall  the  earth 
yield  her  increase,  and  God,  even  our  own  God,  shall 
bless  us !" 

To  exhibit  this  great  principle,  therefore,  as  it  was 
embodied  in  the  men  whose  memories  the  Bible  has 
embalmed,  and  to  excite  to  their  holy  fervor  and  mag- 
nanimous self-denial  in  promoting  the  interests  of  pure 
and  undefiled  religion,  we  would  proceed  to  the  IMoun- 
tains  which  have  been  famous  as  the  witnesses  of 
their  exploits,  and  the  monuments  of  their  individual 
exertions. 


MOUNT    ARARAT, 


THE    LESSONS    OF    THE    DELUGE. 
PART  L 

THE    MOUNTAIN. 
ITS    TOPOGRAPHY    AND    NATURAL    APPEARANCES. 

■In  choosing  from  amongst  the  lands  of  the  Bible  the 
Mountains  that  have  the  grander  associations  with  the 
movements  of  the  Deity,  it  seems  proper  to  begin  with 
Ararat.  But  before  we  specially  consider  that  fear- 
ful work  of  God,  of  which  it  is  an  everlasting  monu- 
ment, let  us  first  of  all  contemplate  its  situation  and 
natural  appearance. 

The  Bible  speaks  of  the  "  mountains  of  Ararat  ;"* 
but  though  the  word  be  in  the  plural,  there  is  only 
\  one  mountain  so  called.    This  mountain,  however,  has 
/  two  peaks,  of  greater  and  lesser  altitude,  and  upon  the 
;     highest  of  these  it  is  understood  the  ark  rested.     Ara- 
rat rises  in  Armenia,  a  country  in  Asia,  part  of  which 
is  now  called  Turcomania,  and  the  rest  is  included  in 
^Persia.     Here  are  the   celebrated  rivers  Euphrates, 
Tigris,  Araxis,  and  Phasis.     Some  think  that  Ararat 
is  only  another  name  for  Armenia ;  and,  in  the  Vul- 
gate, the  ark  is  said  to  have  rested  not  on  the  moun- 

*  Gen.  viii.  4. 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  19 

tains  of  Ararat,  but  of  Armenia.  Others  contend  that 
there  is  no  special  mountain  of  this  name,  but  that  it 
is  applicable  to  the  whole  of  that  stupendous  range 
known  to  the  ancients  as  mount  Taurus,  which,  be- 
ginning in  the  Lesser  Asia,  stretches  as  far  as  the 
East  Indies.  If  the  first  opinion  be  correct,  Ararat  is 
then  supposed  to  have  been  one  of  the  range  called  the 
Gordioean  mountains,  which  are  now  the  sources  of 
the  river  Tigris.  The  ancients  maintained  this,  and 
tell  us  that  some  remains  of  the  ark  were  seen  on  that 
mountain  so  late  as  the  days  of  Alexander  the  Great. 
It  is  certainly  somewhat  singular  that  in  their  imme- 
diate neighborhood  is  the  town  of  Cemain,  or  Themana, 
(from  the  Hebrew  word  shemen,  which  signifies  eighty) 
in  allusion  to  the  eight  persons  that  were  saved  from 
the  deluge,  and  that  the  very  place  where  Noah  and 
his  family  went  out  of  the  ark  was  distinguished  by  a 
name  expressive  of  the  event. 

Travellers,  ancient  and  modern,  unite  in  describing 
Ararat,  which  forms  the  angle  in  this  mountainous 
chain,  as  a  truly  sublime  and  stupendous  object,  ex- 
citing in  the  mind  of  the  spectator  both  admiration 
and  terror.  Fafrbt,  the  Russian  traveller,  states  its 
height  to  be  17,260  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
Thus  it  must  be  6,389  feet  higher  than  Etna,  and 
above  1,500  feet  higher  than  Mount  Blanc,  which  is 
the  most  elevated  point  in  Europe.  The  two  peaks  or 
cones  of  the  mountain  are  called  the  Great  and  the 
Little  Ararat.  The  smaller  is  separated  from  the 
greater  by  an  immense  plain ;  from  it  the  snow  dis- 
appears in  summer ;  whereas,  on  the  peak  of  the 
greater,  the  snow  forever  abides.  Such  an  eminenceN 
must  necessarily  be  seen  from  a  vast  distance — from  / 
160  to  200  miles.  Indeed,  it  is  said  to  serve  as  a  '^ 
landmark  to  the  navigators  of  the  Caspian  sea.     We 


20  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

may  add,  that  the  surrounding  country  abounds  with 
traditionary  stories  about  Noah's  ark  and  the  flood. 
"  From  Erivan,"  says  the  French  traveller,  Tavernier, 
*'  we  went  to  Tauris  (a  fortress  at  the  foot  of  mount 
Gordion,)  which  is  a  journey  of  ten  days  by  the  cara- 
vans— upon  the  second  of  which  you  pass  through  the 
plains  in  the  sight  of  mount  Ararat,  which  you  leave 
on  the  south,  and  where  there  are  a  great  many 
monasteries.  The  Armenians  call  that  mountain 
Mesesoussar,  because  the  ark  of  Noah  was  stopped 
there,  when  the  waters  of  the  flood  abated.  It  is  as  it 
were  separated  from  the  other  mountains  of  Armenia, 
which  make  a  long  chain  or  ridge,  and  from  the  middle 
to  the  top  it  is  covered  with  snow.  It  exceeds  the 
neighboring  mountains  in  height;  and  the  upper  half 
of  it  is  often  hid  in  the  clouds  for  the  space  of  three 
;and  four  months."  Boulaye,  again,- another  French 
writer,  tells  us  that  "  Ararat  is  called  Ardag'h,  by  the 
Turks ;  and  that  it  is  the  highest  mountain  in  the 
world."  Were  we  to  credit  the  authorities  quoted 
by  the  learned  Saurin,  we  might  occupy  some  time 
in  referring  to  the  Armenian  traditions  about  the 
locality ;  but  these  we  omit  to  attend  to  more  inter- 
esting matter. 
/  One  of  the  great  features  of  this  mountain  is  the 
1/  immense  chasm  which  extends  nearly  halfway  down, 
Vl  over  which  impends  a  clifl*,  whose  enormous  masses 
l^>)f  ice  are  from  time  to  time  precipitated  into  the 
\  abyss,  with  a  noise  resembling  the  loudest  thunder. 
M.  Morier  says,  "  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than 
its  shape ;  more  awful  than  its  height."  Sir  Robert 
Kerr  Porter  has  furnished  the  following  graphic  pic- 
ture of  this  magnificent  work  of  nature : — "  As  the 
vale  opened  beneath  us,  in  our  descent,  my  whole  at- 
tention became  absorbed  in  the  view  before  me — a  vast 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  21 

plain  peopled  with  countless  villages — ^the  towers  and 
spires  of  the  churches  of  Eitchmai-adzen  arising  from 
amidst  them — the  glittering  waters  of  the  Araxis  flow- 
ing through  the  fresh  green  vale,  and  the  subordinate 
range  of  mountains  skirting  the  base  of  the  awful 
monument  of  the  antediluvian  world,  it  seemed  to 
stand  a  stupendous  link  in  the  history  of  man,  uniting 
the  two  races  of  men  before  and  after  the  flood.  But 
it  was  not  until  we  had  arrived  upon  the  flat  plain 
that  I  beheld  Ararat  in  all  its  amplitude  of  grandeur. 
From  the  spot  on  which  I  stood  it  appeared  as  if  the 
hugest  mountains  of  the  world  had  been  piled  upon 
each  other  to  form  this  one  sublime  immensity  of 
earth  and  rock  and  snow.  The  icy  peaks  of  its  double 
heads  rose  majestically  into  the  clear  and  cloudless 
heaven — ^the  sun  blazed  bright  upon  them,  and  the  re- 
flection sent  forth  a  dazzhng  radiance  equal  to  other 
suns.  My  eye,  not  able  to  rest  for  any  length  of  time 
on  the  blending  glory  of  its  summits,  wandered  down 
the  apparently  interminable  sides,  till  I  could  no 
longer  trace  their  vast  lines  in  the  mists  of  the  hori- 
zon ;  when  an  inexpressible  impulse  immediately  car- 
rying me  upwards  again,  refixed  my  gaze  on  the 
awful  glare  of  Ararat — and  this  bewildered  sensibility 
of  sight  being  answered  by  a  similar  feeling  in  the 
mind,  for  some  moments  I  was  lost  in  a  strange  sus- 
pension of  the  powers  of  thought." 

Grand,  however,  and  terrific  as  are  the  natural  ap- 
pearances of  this  mountain,  the  devout  mind  is  much 
more  apt  to  undergo  a  suspension  of  its  powers  of 
thought  when  meditating  on  that  appalling  judgment 
with  which  the  inspired  narrative  has  linked  its  history. 
The  most  intelligent  travellers  admit  that  though 
several  attempts  have  been  made  to  reach  the  top, 
" -^^  feat  has  never  been  achieved  ;  for  farther  than  the 


22  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

snow  limit,  none  have  ever  ascended.  In  the  Bible, 
however,  it  is  recorded  that  man  was  once  on  its  dizzy- 
heights — for  on  these  the  ark  rested,  and  on  these,  for 
several  weeks,  Noah  and  his  family  must  have  remained. 
Moses  informs  us  that  it  was  not  till  the  tenth  month 
that  the  tops  of  other  mountains  were  seen  ;  whereas 
in  the  seventh  month,  three  months  previous,  the  top 
of  Ararat  was  visible.  This  may  aid  us  in  forming 
some  idea  of  its  immense  height — nearly  three  months 
I  additional  elapsing  before  the  waters  subsided  so  far 
^s  to  uncover  the  summits  of  other  mountains.  In 
studying  the  history  of  Ararat,  therefore,  we  are  led  to 
inquire  how  it  came  to  pass  that  what  has  ever  since 
been  an  insurmountable  barrier,  was  got  over  in  the 
days  of  the  patriarch ;  and  that  not  only  he,  but  his 
family,  and  a  sample  of  all  living  creatures,  lived  for  a 
considerable  time  amid  a  region  where  animal  existence 
is  now,  and  has  always  been,  unknown  ?  The  answer 
to  this  inquiry  opens  up  to  us  a  large  field  of  interest- 
ing truths,  of  which  but  a  few  can  be  noticed. 


PART   II. 
THE    DELUGE. 

CAUSES     NOT     ALL     NATURAL ENTRANCE     OF     MORAL     EVIL    A 

MYSTERY LONG-SUFFERING     OF     GOD IIIS    PATIENCE    HAS 

A    LIMIT DOOR    OF    THE    ARK    IS    SHUT. 

Passing  by  mhiute  allusions  to  the  deluge  itself,  I 
would  lay  it  down,  as  an  unassailable  position,  that 
such  an  event  cannot  be  accounted  for  on  natural 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  23 

causes  alone.  It  was  not  an  ordinary  overflow  of  the  ! 
rivers — not  an  ordinary  submerging  of  contiguous 
shores  by  the  fulness  of  the  ocean's  tides — -not  an  or- 
dinary prolonged  outpouring  from  the  clouds  of  heaven 
— such  superabundance  of  the  waters  has  more  than 
once,  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  devastated  large 
territories,  and  carried  away  multitudes  of  the  human 
race.  But  the  flood — "  the  shoreless  ocean  that,  from 
the  centre  to  the  streaming  poles,  tumbled  round  the 
globe" — was  altogether  supernatural.  The  same  book 
that  tells  us  of  the  fact,  reminds  us  also  of  the  causes 
to  which  it  must  be  traced*  These  causes  may  be  de- 
scribed in  one  sense  as  natural,  inasmuch  as  it  was  by 
the  opening  up  of  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep,  and 
of  the  "  windows  of  heaven,"  that  the  deluge  was 
brought  upon  the  earth  ;  but,  in  a  moral  or  religious 
sense,  it  must  be  regarded  as  the  doing  of  Jehovah, 
who,  for  good  and  sufficient  reasons,  after  t.iis  manner 
determined  well  nigh  to  depopulate  the  world.  Hence 
it  is  written,  ''  Behold  1,  even  I,  do  bring  a  flood  of  ) 
waters  upon  the  earth."  Herein  the  divine  glory  is 
asserted.  Again,  "  God  looked  upon  the  earth,  and 
saw  that  it  was  corrupt :  for  all  flesh  had  corrupted 
his  way  upon  the  earth.  And  God  said  unto  Noah, 
The  end  of  all  flesh  is  come  before  me  ;  for  the  earth 
is  filled  with  violence  through  them  :  and,  behold,  I 
will  destroy  them  with  the  earth."  Herein  the  con- 
nection between  the  flood  and  the  existence  of  moral 
evil  is  emphatically  stated,  and  not  of  extensive  moral 
evil  only,  but  of  almost  universal  moral  evil :  "  And 
God  saw  that  the  wickedness  of  man  was  great  on  the 
earth,  and  that  every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of 
his  heart  was  only  evil  continually."  These  descrip- 
tions must  be  literally  understood.  Human  nature,  in 
itself,  was  not   only  universally  depraved   in  all   its 


24  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

powers  and  faculties,  but  all  the  human  beings  then 
living  were  partakers  of  such  depravity,  excepting  one 
family.  What  must  have  been  the  extent  of  a  de- 
generacy, to  correspond  with  such  an  account,  and  the 
judgment  inflicted  upon  it,  we  cannot  conceive.  Bad 
as  the  world  has  often  been  since,  and  bad,  after  all, 
as  it  is  still,  it  appears  that  the  wickedness  of  man  has 
never  produced  like  enormities.  It  is  nowhere  re- 
corded, nor  does  the  history  of  the  world  justify  us  in 
conceiving  that  it  could  be  truthfully  recorded,  that, 
excepting  at  that  period,  "  God  repented  that  he  had 
made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it  grieved  him  to  his 
heart." 

It  may  here  be  asked,  as  it  was  in  the  power  of  God 
to  prevent  the  existence,  and,  after  the  entrance,  to 
restrain  the  progress  of  moral  evil,  so  that  such  a 
judgment  might  not  have  been  needed,  why  did  he  not 
do  so  ?  This  is  an  old  question  of  the  free-thinker. 
Like  all  his  questions,  it  proceeds  on  mistaken  views 
of  the  divine  character,  and  an  unbelieving  disregard 
of  the  divine  word.  As  the  fact  of  moral  evil  cannot 
be  denied,  the  drift  of  such  a  question  must  be  to 
charge  the  Deity  as  the  author  of  sin.  Now,  that 
He  should  be  so,  is  impossible,  from  God's  own 
nature,  which  is  essential  holiness.  Besides,  it  is 
opposed  to  the  truth  in  reference  to  the  origin  of 
sin.  Man  was  made  perfect  in  holiness,  and  while 
master  of  his  own  will,  and  with  the  penalty  of  diso- 
bedience full  before  his  mind,  he  transgressed  the  law. 
In  the  very  moment  of  temptation  his  ability  to  resist 
was  perfect,  his  holiness  unimpaired,  and  God  was  be- 
side him  to  assist  him  if  he  needed  and  asked  as- 
sistance. But  when  he  sinned,  then  God  forsook  him, 
because  he,  (not  God,)  but  he,  the  mail,  originated 
sin.     "  No  man  can  say,  when  he  is  tempted,  I  am 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  25 

tempted  of  God ;  for  God  cannot  be  tempted  with  evil, 
neither  tempteth  he  any  man."  In  justifying  God  on 
the  score  of  the  existence  of  moral  evil,  an  esteemed 
theologian  has  noticed  the  following  things  : — First, 
that  it  cannot  be  proved  that  he  was  obliged,  either  by 
justice  or  benevolence,  to  prevent  sin  from  existing  ; 
and,  secondly,  it  cannot  be  proved  that  the  existence 
of  sin  will,  in  the  end,  be  a  detriment  to  the  universe. 
"  All  moral  beings,"  as  he  remarks,  '•  are  governed  by 
motives  only.  What  motives  will,  upon  the  whole, 
produce  the  greatest  good,  united  with  the  least  evil, 
to  the  intelligent  kingdom,  and  how  far  the  fall  and 
punishment  of  some  moral  beings  may,  in  the  nature 
of  the  case,  be  essentially  necessary  to  the  preserving 
obedience  of  the  great  body,  cannot  be  determined. 
But  until  this  is  done,  and,  indeed,  many  other  things 
of  great  moment  to  the  question,  it  can  never  be 
proved  that  the  existence  of  moral  evil  is  injurious  to 
the  universe,  or  the  permission  of  it  inconsistent  with 
the  most  perfect  good-will  on  the  part  of  God."  ''  At 
the  same  time,"  he  adds,  ''  I  acknowledge  myself  ut- 
terly unable,  and  my  complete  conviction  that  all  other 
men  are  unable  to  explain  this  subject,  so  as  to  give  to 
an  inquirer  clear  and  satisfactory  views  by  the  light 
of  reason,  of  the  propriety  of  permitting  the  introduce 
tion  of  moral  evil  into  the  intelligent  system." 

It  is  much  more  becoming  with  our  present  partial 
knowledge,  to  be  extremely  chary  in  the  agitation  of 
such  questions.  A  good  purpose  can  scarcely  be 
served  by  it,  and  much  serious  injury  may  be  done  to 
our  own  spiritual  comfort.  It  is  enough  for  us  to 
feel  that  such  evil  exists,  and  that  it  exists  in  us. 
It  is  enough  to  know  that  we  are  to  be  charged 
with  it,  and  that  God  is  to  be  our  judge.  If  we  ply 
our  mental  energies  diligently  in  attending  to  these 

2 


26  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

personal  views  of  the  matter,  we  will  neither  have 
time  nor  inclination  to  seek  ''to  be  wise  above  what 
is  written  ;"  for  whoever  has  been  so  foolish  as  to 
commence  such  a  search,  has  returned  empty  as  to 
any  additional  information,  but  more  guilty  than 
before,  in  presuming  to  attempt  the  withdrawment  of 
the  veil  vrhich  God  has  suspended  over  the  incompre- 
hensible doctrines  of  his  word. 

In  reference  to  this  serious  subject,  it  is  also  the 
most  useful  plan  to  receive,  with  implicit  faith,  the 
plain  statements  of  scripture,  and  to  meditate  on  such 
portions  of  these  as  persuade  us  to  return  to  God. 
The  narrative  under  review  supplies  abundance  of  such 
encouragements.  Whatever  darkness  rests  upon  the 
question  of  the  entrance  of  sin,  none  whatever  rests 
on  the  in-acious  determination  of  God  to  banish  it  from 
the  world.  In  doing  this  he  is  sovereign  ;  he  can  take 
any  way  that  pleases  him.  He  can  clear  the  earth  of 
sin  by  destroying  sinners  and  casting  them  out  of  it, 
or  by  presenting  them  with  those  motives  to  obedience 
which  allare  them  from  their  sins,  or  by  employing  so 
much  of  the  first  expedient,  the  destruction  of  some 
sinners  in  his  awful  indignation,  that  others  may  be 
impressed  with  the  fear  of  sin,  and  with  a  desire  to 
be  made  holy.  This  he  did  in  the  case  of  the  deluge. 
He  preserved  one  family  to  perpetuate  the  race,  and  he 
I  preserved  the  record  of  the  flood  to  act  as  a  beacon  to 
\  future  generations.  Even,  however,  in  pursuing  this 
^lan,  Jehovah  richly  manifested  his  long-suffering  and 
patience ;  for  it  ought  to  be  remembered  that  the  flood 
did  not  come  unexpectedly  on  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth.  To  show  his  desire  to  save  them  from  destruc- 
tion, God  appointed  Noah  to  preach  righteousness  to 
them,  not  only  all  the  time  the  ark  was  building,  but 
foy   one   hundred    and   twenty  years  previous  to   the 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  27 

coming  of  the  flood — time  enough,  surely,  to  allow  the 
aAvful  premonitions  of  the  impending  judgment  to  cir- 
culate round  the  earth.  In  reference  to  this,  an  apostle 
remarks,  that  ''  the  long-suffering  of  God  waited  in 
the  days  of  Noah  while  the  ark  was  preparing."  Yes, 
for  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  before  the  flood 
came,  Jehovah  did  strive  with  man ;  but,  alas  !  with- 
out eflect — the  time  expired,  and  the  limit  of  divine 
patience  was  reached. 

Yes,  sinner! — unrepentant  and  unbelieving — even 
the  patience  of  God  has  its  limit ;  and  though  none  of 
the  menaces  against  your  sins,  to  which  you  have  often 
listened,  be  as  yet  accomplished,  rest  assured  their 
accomplishment  is  certain.  Peradventure  you  are 
deceived,  by  the  mere  circumstance  of  their  delay, 
into  the  idea  that  they  are  either  entirely  withdrawn, 
or  that  they  have  never  been  anything  else  than  bug- 
bears of  human  begetting.  Ah !  not  unlikely  so 
reasoned  and  so  thought  those  foolish  men  who  lived 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Noah  when  the  ark 
was  a- building.  Daily  they  came  to  assist  in  its  con- 
struction, and  daily  the  patriarchal  minister  came  to 
the  ark,  and  exhorted  them  to  forsake  their  sins,  and 
worship  God.  Year  after  year  did  that  good  man 
plead  with  these  bad  men,  but  in  vain.  Each  night, 
peradventure,  as  they  retired  to  their  houses,  they 
would  entertain  their  families  with  the  old  man's  cre- 
dulity, and  many  a  laugh  would  be  raised  at  his  ex- 
pense, till  at  length,  in  all  probability,  even  derision 
would  cease  to  be  excited — the  repetition  of  the  same 
truths  rather  lulling  to  sleep  than  quickening  to  vigi- 
lance and  prayer.  But  the  hundred  and  twenty  years 
expire,  and  Noah  at  last  begins  to  embark.  Just  one 
week  is  allowed  him  to  carry  into  the  ark  all  his 
family,  with  bu'ds,  and  beasts,  and  creeping  things, 


28  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

and  provisions.  It  is  melancholy  to  see  how  these 
same  men  assist  him  during  every  one  of  these  seven 
days — often  going  into  and  out  of  the  ark — still  un- 
alarmed — still  ridiculing  the  fears  of  the  fanatic 
preacher.  On  the  evening  of  the  seventh  day,  all  are 
now  within  the  massy  fabric — Noah,  his  wife,  his 
sons'  wives,  and  the  living  creatures  God  had  com- 
manded him  to  take  with  him.  For  the  last  time,  we 
may  fancy  these  obstinate  sinners  in  the  act  of  retir- 
ing from  the  ark.  Noah's  heart  is  moved  ;  and,  it 
may  be,  he  thus  closes  his  ministry  :  "  Stop,  sinful, 
infatuated  men  ! — stop  for  one  moment — this  is  the 
last  opportunity.  I  believe  God  to  be  sincere  ;  and  if 
you  will  even  now  repent,  and  remain  in  this  ark, 
you  will  be  saved  ;  but  if  you  take  one  step  more 
from  where  you  now  stand,  in  scornful  defiance  of 
God's  warnings,  you  are  lost."  The  scorners  con- 
sider this  to  be  the  crisis  of  the  hoary  preacher's  mad- 
ness ;  with  a  look  of  contempt,  they  descend  and  re- 
pair homewards,  again  to  entertain  their  families  with 
the  last  ridiculous  eccentricities  of  their  neighbor 
Noah.  But,  hark  !  what  sound  is  that  which  strikes 
upon  their  ears  ?  That  is  no  usual  sound — it  goes 
through  their  hearts — their  steps  are  arrested,  and  they 
turn  and  look  behind  them — what  was  it  ?  It  was 
the  shutting  of  the  door  of  the  ark  ;  not  by  Noah's, 
not  by  human  hand,  but  by  the  hand  of  Jehovah  ;  for 
it  is  written,  "  And  the  Lord  shut  him  in."  And 
now,  (for  the  sacred  narrative  intimates  as  much,)  the 
waters  begin  to  flow  and  fall — the  sun  is  darkened — 
the  earth  shakes,  and  the  distant  thunder  rolls,  while 
reverberating  hills  multiply  manifold  the  roaring  of 
the  dread  artillery  of  heaven.  Forgetful  now  of  every- 
thing but  self-preservation,  they  flee  in  terror  towards 
the  ark,  which  but  a  little  before  they  had  insolently 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  29 

quitted.  They  see  that  this  is  no  ordinary  rain,  and 
they  fear  that,  after  all,  Noah  has  been  right.  What 
a  frightful  simultaneous  rush  would  then  be  to  that 
singular  building ;  but  how  much  more  awfully  ter- 
rific would  it  become,  when,  as  they  all  in  distraction 
labor  to  scramble  up  its  huge  sides,  one  after  the 
other  falls  into  the  accumulating  waters,  and  all  hope 
of  that  shut  door  re-opening  dies  within  them  !  Away, 
away  to  the  high  places  and  the  mountains  they  now, 
in  the  speed  of  despair,  are  hurried ;  but  it  is  all  in 
vain :  in  forty  days  the  tops  of  the  highest  mountains, 
even  Ararat's  lofty  pinnacles,  are  covered. 

Sinners,  unbelieving  and  impenitent,  come  and  lis- 
ten to  the  lessons  of  the  deluge  ;  for  pointedly  to  you 
this  Bible  story  speaks,  and  that  with  a  pathos  so 
melting  that  it  might  charm  into  hearing  even  the 
deaf  adder.  Indeed,  not  to  restrict  the  improvement 
of  this  subject  to  you,  were  unfaithfulness  on  our  part, 
greatly  to  be  blamed.  Something  like  this  is  to  be 
realized  in  your  own  experience,  if  you  continue  to 
despise  "  the  riches  of  God's  long-suffering  ;"  for  it  is 
written,  ''He  that,  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth 
his  neck,  shall  suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  with- 
out remedy." 

Receive,  then,  the  lessons  from  Ararat ! 


30  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

PART  III. 

LESSONS    OF    ARARAT. 

JUDGMENTS    ARE    PREPARED    FOR    SCORNERS A    REFUGE    IS 

PROVIDED    FOR    SINNERS. 

I.  Judgments  are  prepared  for  scorners. — It  is 
true,  a  universal  flood  shall  not  again  sweep  man  from 
the  face  of  the  earth  ;  for  the  Lord  God  hath  said  in 
his  heart,  "  I  will  not  again  curse  the  gi-ound  any- 
more for  man's  sake  ;  for  the  imagination  of  man's 
heart  is  evil  from  his  youth  :  neither  will  I  again 
smite  any  more  every  thing  living,  as  I  have  done. 
While  the  earth  remaineth,  seed-time  and  harvest,  and 
cold  and  heat,  and  summer  and  winter,  and  day  and 
night,  shall  not  cease."  But  other  and  more  tremen- 
dous judgments  are  in  reserve  for  scorners.  The 
deluge,  appallingly  comprehensive  as  it  was  of  all 
temporal  evil,  did  not  exhaust  God's  deadly  reservoirs 
of  righteous  vengeance.  His  mercies,  Ivcpt  for  and 
dispensed  among  thousands,  are  as  full  as  ever,  and 
cannot  be  diminished ;  and  that  which  he  calls  his 
*'  strange  work"  is,  and  must  be,  as  completely  at  his 
command  as  if  none  of  his  "  pestilences  that  walk  in 
darkness"  had  ever  spread  the  pall  of  death  over  the 
nations.  "Judgments  are  prepared  for  scorners,"  says 
the  preacher. 

Who  are  the  scorners  ?  You,  who  live  in  unbelief, 
amid  the  light  of  the  Gospel  dispensation ;  you,  who 
have  the  same  love  of  sin — the  same  evil  imagina- 
tions continually,  that  imprecated  the  wrath  of  God 
on  the  antediluvians ;  you  are  the  scorners.  And  so 
are  you,  who  sit  from  day  to  day  at  the  table  of  God's 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  31 

providential  bounties,  and,  when  you  have  eaten  and 
are  full,  refuse  to  give  thanks  to  Him  who  opens  his 
hands  liberally,  and  daily  supplies  all  your  wants— 
you,  also,  who  sit  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  at  the 
Gospel  table,  and  eye  with  indifference  the  bread  of 
life  which  is  thereon  provided  for  you,  and  dash  the 
cup  of  salvation  from  your  very  lips,  instead  of  eating 
and  drinking  that  your  souls  may  live  ;  you  are  the 
scorners.  And  so  are  you  who,  in  obedience  to  a  prev- 
alent custom,  qualify  yourselves  for  an  external  ad- 
mission into  the  membership  of  the  church,  and  spend 
.  your  days  under  the  shelterless  canopy  of  a  nominal 
Christianity.  Such,  in  short,  are  all,  who  not  only 
are  not  converted,  but  refuse  to  be  converted,  prefer- 
ring to  live  on  amid  a  dogged  adherence  to  the  mere 
name,  an  obstinate  dislike  to  the  strict  spirit,  and  a 
growing  disrelish  for  the  holiness  of  a  pure  and  unde- 
filed  religion.  Yes,  all  such  are  scorners  ;  and  though 
you  may  flatter  yourselves  that  all  is  well,  on  the 
ground  of  the  creditable  opinions  of  your  fellow-men ; 
and  though  that  arch-deceiver  within  you,  your  own 
heai't,  may  endorse  the  world's  short-sighted  encomi- 
ums, and  puff  up  your  vanity  with  pitiful  notions  of 
your  own  worth  ;  worthless,  and  worse  than  worthless, 
you  still  are,  and  must  continue  to  be,  while  the  in- 
side of  the  platter  is  unpurified,  and  your  hearts  re- 
semble the  "  whited  sepulchres,  which  indeed  appear 
beautiful  outward,  but  are  within  full  of  dead  men's 
bones,  and  of  all  uncleanness." 

If  the  rude  and  roaming  savage  of  the  woods,  who 
has  the  law  of  God  written  in  his  heart,  is,  in  the  eye 
of  that  law,  a  scorner  when  he  falls  down  to  worship 
the  graven  image,  or  it  may  be  the  glorious  sun — if 
the  more  civilised  idolater,  who  will  not  understand 
by  the  things  that  are  made,  the  eternal  power  and 


32  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

Godhead  of  the  Deity,  be,  in  the  judgment  of  God, 
without  excuse — if  he,  too,  be  a  scorner — or,  if  the 
polished  preceptor  of  a  Platonic  philosophy,  and  the 
almost  sublime  exemplifier  of  a  Socratic  calmness  in 
the  view  of  death,  be  included  by  the  revelation  of 
God,  among  those  who  are  in  reality  dead,  having  no 
faith,  no  well-founded  hope,  no  thoroughly  unselfish 
trust — among  what  class  of  scorners  must  you  be 
ranged,  and  what  measure  of  judgments  must  be  in 
reserve  for  you,  who  have  received  the  knowledge  of 
the  love  of  God,  and  yet  cherish  enmity  towards  him 
in  your  hearts  ;  who  have  had  Christ  Jesus  set  forth 
as  evidently  crucified  for  you,  and  yet  put  him  to  an 
open  shame,  by  lifting  towards  him  the  finger  of  scorn, 
while  he  stretches  out  to  you  those  friendly  hands  that 
once  were  nailed  for  you  on  the  accursed  tree ;  who 
perhaps  perpetuate  the  fickleness  and  blasphemy  of 
the  men  of  Judea,  following  him  the  one  day,  in  the 
observance  of  a  mere  ordinance,  with  feigned  hosan- 
nas,  and  on  the  next  heaping  upon  him,  in  your  cool 
and  daring  relapses  into  sin,  the  heartless  execration, 
"  Crucify  him,  crucify  him  I" 

If,  then,  these  descriptions  of  character  come  home 
to  any  of  your  consciences,  let  it  be  remembered  that 
for  all  such  scorners  "  judgments  are  prepared."  What 
an  awful  revelation  is  this!  Ponder  it  seriously. 
Judgments  !  what  are  these  ?  The  term  is  compre- 
hensive of  temporal  disasters,  spiritual  distresses,  and 
eternal  torments.  How  common  in  these  days  are  the 
first  I  Riches  on  all  hands  make  to  themselves  wings 
and  fly  away.  Ruin  grimly  sits  where  Fortune  once 
gaily  smiled.  Family  circles  are  invaded  by  disease 
and  death,  and  Rachel  weeps,  refusing  to  be  com- 
forted, because  her  children  are  not.  What  are  usu- 
ally known  as  all  ''  the  ills  of  life,"  seem  to  be  let 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  33 

loose  upon  men ;   and  what  are  these  but  the  judg- 
ments of  God  ?     Then  as  to  spiritual  distresses  !  who 
is   he  who  can  analyse   and   exhibit   them  ?     Alas  I 
they  are  among  the  deep  things  of  human  experience. 
Yet  if,  by  the  hand  of  God,  the  veil  were  withdrawn 
from  even  one  solitary  bosom  vnrithing  under  their 
lash,  the  spectacle  would  appall  us.     We  should  see 
the  mind's  confusion  in  respect  of  its  relationships  to 
God  and  eternity — the  heart's  agony  under  the  terror 
of  impending  wrath — the  conscience  rising  in  its  fury 
to  accuse  and  condemn,  and  the  whole  soul  unsuccess- 
fully struggling  in  the  meshes  of  carnality,  to  rise 
from  beneath  the  frowns  of  God's  face  and  realize  the 
joys  of  his    salvation.     Under   these  spiritual  judg- 
ments, neither   Bibles   nor   ordinances    afford    relief. 
They  avail  not  to   comfort  the  scorners !     The  light 
shines  not  into  their  souls.     The  waters  refresh  not 
their  thirsty  spirits — and  even  out  of  the  cup  of  salva- 
tion they  drink  what  seems  to  them  gall  and  worm- 
wood.    The  tidings  which  speak  pardon  and  peace  to 
others,  only  tantalize  them  the  more,  and  throw  them 
into  unutterable  grief.     Yet  "  all  these  are  but  the 
beginning  of  sorrows."     With  respect  to  eternal  tor- 
ments, what  shall  we  say  ?     As  yet  they  have  not 
been  known  by  yoa.     Their  infliction,   however,  is 
certain,  if  you  die  scorning.     In  that  case,  "  a  fearful 
looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation,"  from 
the    Almighty,  may  now  seize  upon   you ;    for  the 
judgment  which   is   as  it   were  asleep   to-day,  may 
awaken  to-morrow,  and  must  awaken  ere  long.     The 
truth  is,  such  a  judgment  is  not  far  from  any  scorner. 
It  lieth  always  at  his  door,  ready  to  do  its  work,  when 
He  gives  the  command  who  has  "  prepared"  it. 

Yes,  scorners,  such  judgments  are  prepared  for  you 
— as  really  prepared  for  you,  as  salvation  is  prepared 

2* 


34  MOUIST    ARARAT. 

for  the  lovers  of  God.  They  do  not  belong  to  what 
the  world  calls  the  chapter  of  accidents.  Escape  from 
them  is  impossible  while  you  scorn.  O,  that  you 
would  take  warning  from  your  temporal  and  spiritual 
troubles,  and  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come ;  for  while 
escape  from  the  former  is  certain,  if  you  believe  and 
repent  now,  the  latter  must  be  endured  when  once 
encountered,  and  endured  throughout  unending  ages, 
repentance  only  aggravating  the  wo,  and  faith  only 
deepening  and  darkening  the  despair  of  the  soul ! 

And  who  has  prepared  such  judgments  ?  Ah  !  here 
is  the  thought  that  gives  to  the  worm  new  power  to 
gnaw,  and  to  the  fire  new  fuel  to  burn.  God  has  pre- 
pared them.  Though  it  be  his  "strange  work,"  yet 
judgment  is  his  work — the  work  of  him  who  is  the 
God  of  love  and  mercy — the  God  and  Father  of  a  Sa- 
viour who  was  often  offered  to  you,  and  ever  despised. 
His  law,  his  justice,  his  holiness,  ay,  even  his  very 
loving-kindness,  demand  it  of  him  that  he  exhibit  to 
the  universe  his  detestation  of  sin — especially  of  the 
sin  of  scorning  his  pardoning  grace.  Believe  it,  then, 
ye  who  now  scorn.  The  wrath  of  God  is  coming — it 
is  hastening  towards  you  like  a  mighty  flood!  Yet 
but  a  few  years,  it  may  be  days,  and  the  fountains  of 
his  fury  shall  be  opened,  and  you  shall  be  swept  into 
"  the  lake  that  burns  with  fire ;"  for  thus  it  is  written, 
"  The  wrath  of  God  is  revealed  from  heaven  against 
all  ungodliness  and  unrighteousness  of  men,  who  hold 
the  truth  in  unrighteousness  ;"  and  again,  "  Upon  the 
wicked  he  shall  rain  snares,  fire,  and  brimstone,  and 
an  horrible  tempest."  Do  you  hear  these  scriptures 
with  unconcerned  minds  ?  Then  you  resemble  the 
men  that  lived  in  the  days  of  Noah,  who  wholly  dis- 
regarded the  divine  warnings;  inferring,  that  as  all 
things  as  yet  continued  as   they  were,   the   deluge 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  35 

would  never  coiiiej  and  that  Noah's  words  were  empty 
sounds. 

These  may  be,  and  often  are,  very  disagreeable  in- 
timations to  unbelievers.  But  we  dare  not  hide  them 
from  your  view.  Love  to  your  souls,  as  well  as  faith- 
fulness to  the  Redeemer,  demand  that  we  do  ''  not 
shun  to  declare  unto  you  all  the  counsel  of  God."  To 
the  ministers  of  the  gospel,  it  is  not  certainly  so  agree- 
able to  persuade  men  "■  by  the  terrors"  as  by  "  the 
mercies"  of  the  Lord.  Yet  they  know  that  the  latter 
are  never  so  likely  to  be  prized  and  sought  after  as 
when  the  former  have  been  honestly  and  affectionately 
proclaimed.  Let  us  now,  then,  with  grateful  hearts, 
turn  your  attention  to  the  second  lesson  from  Ararat. 

IL    A     REFUGE     FROM     JUDGMENTS    IS     PREPARED     FOR 

SINNERS. — The  antediluvians  had  the  ark,  and  we 
may  believe  that  room  would  have  been  provided  for 
any  that  yielded  to  Noah's  entreaties  ;  but  none  of 
them  repented,  and  none  were  saved.  Sinners,  you 
too  have  an  ark — a  new  testament  ark.  God  himself 
has  built  it  for  you,  and  there  is  room  in  it  for  you  all. 
And  what  and  where  is  that  ark  ? 

Jesus  Christ  and  him  crueified  forms  the  ark  into 
which  you  are  invited  to  flee  and  be  saved.  If  you 
know  not  where  to  find  it,  go  to  the  gospel,  for  in  it 
Jesus  is  evidently  set  forth  as  crucified  for  you.  He, 
and  he  only,  can  ''deliver  you  from  the  wrath  to 
coiTie."  He  is  the  eternal  Son  of  God — God  "  equal 
with  the  Father."  He  is  the  Son  of  man,  having 
taken  the  nature  of  the  seed  of  Abraham  into  myste- 
rious union  with  his  divinity.  He  is  the  substitute  of 
sinners,  having  taken  their  place  in  relation  to  the  law 
and  justice  of  God,  and  "  made  an  end  of  sin"  by  the 
sacrifice  of  himself.  He  has  lived  a  life  of  obedience 
to  that  law  which  sinners  broke.     He  has  borne  the 


36  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

punishment  due  to  sin,  though  he  "  knew  no  sin.'^ 
Every  claim,  therefore,  whether  of  law  or  justice,  he 
has  fully  satisfied  in  your  stead,  so  that  if  you  will 
only  avail  yourselves  of  his  suretyship,  and  take  refuge 
in  his  atonement,  and  be  clothed  in  his  righteousness, 
and  become  obedient  to  his  commandments,  then  you 
are  within  the  ark — the  great,  the  capacious  gospel 
ark  ;  where,  come  whatever  storm  Jehovah  may  com- 
mission into  our  guilty  world,  you  are  certain  to  ride 
safely  above  the  tumultuous  waters,  till  you  rest  at 
last  on  the  celestial  mountains. 

Why  then  will  you  not  enter  ?  Make  known  the 
reason  of  your  backwardness.  Say,  does  it  arise  from 
a  fear  that  there  is  not  room  enough  within  for  all 
that  are  invited,  or  that  perhaps  you  are  not  included 
among  them  to  whom  the  gracious  offer  is  tendered  ? 
Not  room  enough  in  Christ !  Banish  the  thought 
from  your  minds.  One  thing  we  know,  there  was 
room  in  him  after  sinners  had  been  fleeing  to  him  for 
four  thousand  years.  This  truth  he  himself  taught 
us  in  his  own  beautiful  parable  of  the  great  supper, 
to  which  all  and  sundry  were  invited ;  and  after 
everything  had  been  done  precisely  as  he  had  com- 
manded, the  servant  comes  and  tells  the  master  of  the 
house,  "  Yet  there  is  room."  In  these  striking  words 
a  glorious  truth  is  revealed — that  the  Christian's  ark 
is  not  yet  fully  tenanted  ;  and  as  it  is  not  likely  soon 
to  be,  you  are  yet  in  time.  Not  only  in  Christ's 
"  P^ather's  house  are  many  mansions"  prepared  for 
the  saints,  but  Christ's  own  heart  is  all  ready  for  the 
reception,  in  the  first  instance,  of  every  sinner  of  man- 
kind who  will  take  shelter  in  it.  An  entrance  must 
be  actually  made  into  his  gospel  invitation,  to  take 
possession  of  its  promises — into  his  covenant,  to  take 
possession  of  its  blood — and  into   his  heart,  to  take 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  37 

possession  of  its  wonderful  love.     Not  room  enough  in 

-t 
in  Christ ! 


Christ ! — the  needed  mansions  not  numerous  enough 


"Great  God  forbid  that  such  a  thought 
Should  in  your  breasts  be  found  !" 

His  love  for  you,  sinners,  is  boundless  as  his  own 
divinity,  and  could  embrace  innumerable  worlds  teem- 
ing with  transgressors  more  guilty  even  than  you. 
His  atonement  for  sin  is  likewise  infinite  in  its  intrin- 
sic value  ;  it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  drain  away  its 
precious  blood,  even  though  every  sinner  now  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  or  who  may  hereafter  live,  were  to 
wash  in  it  and  be  cleansed.  Your  own  righteousness 
is  filthy  rags,  but  His  righteousnees  is  righteousness ; 
that  is,  it  is  righteousness  indeed  and  in  truth,  be- 
cause it  is  of  sufficient  excellence  to  screen  you  from 
the  anger  of  God,  and  to  hide  your  imperfections  from 
his  eye.  Clothed  in  it  you  will,  at  death,  find  instant 
admission  into  God's  presence,  and  be  through  all  eter- 
nity entitled  there  to  occupy  a  higher  place  even  than 
the  angels  who  kept  their  first  estate. 

But  there  is  more  than  this  to  be  attended  to ;  for 
as  there  is  plenty  of  room  in  this  spiritual  ark  for  you 
all,  so  it  is  equally  true  that  you  are  all  not  only  war- 
ranted to  enter,  but  the  commandment  of  God  himself 
is  your  warrant.  This  is  indisputable  ;  for  there  can- 
not be  any  doubt  that  there  must  be,  and  that  there  is 
a  sense  in  which  the  accommodation  and  the  invita- 
tion to  use  it  are  equally  extensive.  All  are  asked  to 
enter,  just  because  there  is  room  in  this  ark  for  all. 
Upon  this  delightful  representation  of  the  case,  listen 
to  the  word  of  God  in  the  following  passages  : — "  Have 
I  any  pleasure  at  all  that  the  wicked  should  die,  saith 
the  Lord,  and  not  that  he  should  return  from  his  ways 
and  live  ?    I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  him  that 


38  MOUNT    ARARAT 

dieth,  saith  the  Lord,  wherefore,  turn  yourselves  and 
live  ye."  "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye  from  your  evil  ways ; 
for  why  will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel  ?"  "  Ho,  every 
one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that 
hath  no  money :  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea,  come, 
buy  wine  and  milk  without  money,  and  without 
price."  ''  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his 
only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever"  (God  be  thanked, 
there  is  a  whosoever  in  the  promise  !)  ''  whosoever  be- 
lieveth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life."  "  This  is  a  faithful  (or  true)  saying,  and  worthy 
of  all  acceptation,  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners."  "  The  Spirit  and  the  bride 
say.  Come.  And  let  him  that  heareth  say.  Come. 
And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come.  And  lohosoever 
will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 

These  are  the  words  of  the  unchangeable  Jehovah, 
and  they  are  addressed  to  all  sinners,  without  excep- 
tion. Why  then  do  any  conclude  that  they  are  not 
warranted  to  accept  of  mercy  ?  Upon  what  view  of 
the  subject  can  such  doubts  be  defended?  Gospel 
hearers,  beware  of  unbelief.  It  may  not  seem  to  you 
to  be  so  bad  a  thing  as  infidelity  ;  notwithstanding,  it 
may  be  to  you  as  ruinous.  A  distinction  may  be 
formed  between  infidelity  and  unbelief,  meaning  by 
the  first,  the  total  rejection  of  revelation,  and  by  the 
second,  the  tacit,  if  not  avowed,  acknowledgment  of 
the  gospel  as  a  message  of  God,  but  the  refusal  to 
conclude  that  its  offers  of  pardon  extend  to  us,  or  that 
our  sins  have  been  atoned  for  by  the  death  of  Christ. 
Are  you  taking  comfort  from  such  a  distinction  as 
this  ?  It  is  not  safe.  There  is  certainly  no  hope  for 
the  man  who  dies  an  infidel ;  but  neither  can  there  be 
any  hope  for  him  who  dies  in  such  unbelief  of  God's 
sincerity  in  the  gospel  call,  and  of  Christ's  sufRciency 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  39 

as  a  propitiation,  not  only  for  our  sins,  ''  but  also  for 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world."  This  is  in  reality  in- 
fidelity, and  something  worse.  There  is  here  a  tam- 
pering with  the  truth — an  almost  persuasion  to  be  a 
Christian — a  halt  between  two  opinions — an  admission 
of  the  truth  of  the  gospel  as  a  general  remedy,  com- 
bined with  a  rejection  of  it  as  not  specially  intended 
for  you.  There  is  one  consideration  upon  which  we 
might  give  way  to  such  doubts.  It  is  this  : — Has  any 
sinner,  in  any  age  of  the  w^orld,  and  from  among  any 
people,  gone  to  Christ,  asked  admission,  and  been 
dismissed,  not  alone  on  the  score  of  want  of  room  in 
him,  but  on  any  ground  whatever  ?  Many  hard  words 
have  been  uttered  against  our  ark,  brethren,  but  we 
have  never  yet  heard  such  an  accusation  as  this,  and 
the  reason  is  obvious.  None  ever  sought  admission 
there  who  were  not  admitted  ;  consequently  they  could 
not  return  to  tell  any  such  doleful  tale,  as  that  they 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  the  door  was  not  opened. 
Be  assured,  no  such  testimony  can  truthfully  be  borne 
against  Christ ;  and  if  you  wish  to  be  joyfully  con- 
vinced of  this,  go  away  to  him  and  make  the  experi- 
ment for  yourselves.  Would  God  you  would  only 
do  so  ;  then  our  remonstrances  with  you  should  not 
be  required !  You  would  then  have  the  witness 
within  yourselves,  that  to  receive  instant  welcome, 
you  have  only  to  ask  it — to  find  pardon,  you  have 
only  to  seek  it — to  have  the  door  opened,  you  have 
only  to  knock — to  see  that  God  is  good,  you  have  only 
to  taste — to  be  saved,  you  have  only  to  believe — to  be 
strengthened  for  all  the  duties  and  temptations  of  this 
life,  you  have  only  to  trust — to  be  comforted  and 
made  happy  in  your  passage  through  tribulation, 
you  have  only  to  "  fear  no  evil" — aijd  to  be  glorified 
eternally,  you  have  thereafter  only  to  gather  up  your 


40  MOUNT    ARARAT. 

feet  into  the  bed,  and,  like  Jacob,  yield  up  the 
ghost. 

Sinner,  are  you  yet  unconvinced  of  the  necessity  of 
repentance,  and  of  faith  towards  Christ  as  your  ark  ? 
What  is  this  that  stumbles  you  now?  I  see  what 
it  is.  You  are  too  proud  to  enter  that  ark — the  cross 
is  an  offence  to  you.  You  cannot  stoop  to  take  it  up. 
You  will  not  suffer  your  carnal  conceits  to  be  sacrificed 
upon  such  a  tree.  You  will  risk  some  other  experi- 
ment. YoQ  will  take  your  chance  of  the  Christian 
Noah  that  warned  you,  turning  out  a  garrulous  old 
fool — a  babbler.  You  will  wait  awhile  and  see  what 
the  future  produces.  You  will  try  the  manufacture  of 
some  nice  little  ark  of  your  own  to  escape  to,  if  a 
storm  should  arise,  and  a  flood  should  come.  You 
will,  even  if  it  should  come  to  the  worst,  get  up  to  the 
top  of  some  of  your  own  mountains.  Why  not  ?  they 
are  your  own  property.  Or  to  the  high  towers  of  your 
own  Babels.  Why  not  ?  do  they  not  reach  up  into 
heaven  ?  And  if  not  from  the  Babel  tops  of  your  own 
good  works,  surely  from  the  magnificent  peak  of  some 
moral  Ararat,  you  will  have  the  good  fortune  to  escape 
the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  and  appropriate  salvation. 
Yea,  and  if  all  this  should  fail,  you  will,  you  think, 
have  time  enough,  as  a  last  resort,  to  flee  unto,  and 
experiment  upon  Jesus  ;  and  then  surely  all  will  be 
well !  So  thought,  and  so  reasoned,  let  us  suppose, 
some  of  the  congregation  of  Noah.  Regarding  his 
predictions  as  the  ravings  of  madness,  they  resisted 
his  ministry  till  the  flood  came,  and  then  they  arose 
and  fled  to  the  ark  ;  but  the  door  was  shut. 

Brethren !  realize  the  position  and  looks  of  tho 
very  last  survivor  of  that  wicked  generation.  Con- 
template the  last^ntediluvian  man !  Miserable  being  ! 
"he,  too,  had  been  at  the  building  of  the  ark  ;  and  had 


MOUNT    ARARAT.  41 

joined  in  ridiculing  the  prophet  of  the  Lord.  He 
remembers  the  sermons  now — but  a  late  memory  is 
sometimes  worse  than  a  total  oblivion ;  and  so  it  is 
with  him — it  is  too  late.  He  must  flee  now  to  the 
house-tops,  for  the  waters  are  rising — but  safety  is  not 
there.  He  hies  him  away  to  the  neighboring  hills 
— ^but  the  waters  are  rising  :  safety  is  not  there.  He 
reaches  at  length  the  summit  of  the  loftiest  mountain 
near  him,  and  he  alone  reaches  it — every  wicked 
man,  except  himself,  has  perished.  He  looks  around 
— all  is  ''  ocean,  into  fearful  tempest  tossed."  He 
looks  above — but  the  dreadful  eye  of  an  angry  God 
is  fixed  upon  him  from  every  cloud.  He  is  alone  too. 
He  has  seen  wife,  children,  and  friends  sink  in 
the  mighty  waters.  He  has  heard  the  gurgling  sounds 
— the  dread  requiem  of  his  race,  and  he  now  occupies 
the  only  uncovered  spot  of  the  drowning  globe.  For 
one  moment  hope  whispers  to  him  that  possibly  the 
waters  may  not  reach  his  lofty  retreat — his  eye  is  fixed 
on  the  angry  tide  that  roars  around  him — now  he 
fancies  that  that  tide  recedes,  and  a  shout  of  joy 
breaks  through  the  watery  clouds — ^but  another  look 
undeceives  him.  Lo  !  the  waters  rise,  and  rise,  and 
even  now  he  is  enveloped  in  their  foaming  spray. 
He  is  about  to  abandon  himself  to  his  fate — when, 
while  casting  his  last  look  over  the  wide  abyss,  he  sees, 
at  a  distance,  a  huge  object  tossed  to  and  fro  upon  the 
waves,  and  evidently  rapidly  approaching  him.  It  is 
the  ark !  Behold  there  that  wondrous  ship  comes 
dashing  on,  erect  and  safe.  It  nears  the  last  man — 
perad venture  it  may  come  so  near  that  Noah  may 
hear  and  admit  him.  Ah !  vain  imagination.  It 
did  approach  him — very  near  indeed — so  near  that 
he  could  have  touched  it,  when  up  into  heaven  rose 
the  terrific  cry  of  despair,  as  the  next  swelling  surge 


42  MOUxXT    ARARAT. 

carried  it  far,  far,  out  of  his  reach,  and  in  the  same 
moment  engulphed  him  in  its  angry  bosom  I  Ebb, 
ebb  now,  ye  mighty  tides — retire  now,  ye  troubled 
waters  ;  for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  has  triumphed 
— your  work  is  accomplished — the  Deity  is  avenged. 

Sinner !  in  the  despairing  eftbrts  and  ultimate 
destruction  of  the  last  antediluvian  man,  you  may 
see  depicted  what,  in  a  moral  and  religious  sense, 
is  certain  to  be  your  closing  struggles,  with  an 
accusing  conscience  within  you — an  angry  God  above 
you — an  appalling  judgment-seat  before  you,  and 
the  ark  of  salvation  appearing  now  to  aggravate 
your  misery,  and  now  lost,  lost  forever  to  your  view. 
Such,  we  say,  is  certain  to  be  your  end,  if  you  will 
not  now  repent  and  believe  and  abide  in  Christ. 
Leave  off  this  work  to  the  last — let  but  the  waters 
of  Jordan  begin  to  rise,  and  let  the  mental,  the 
spiritual  storm  within  you  but  begin  to  rage,  and 
you  will  find  it — yes  ;  it  is  more  than  probable — it 
is  almost  certain — that  you  will  find  it  too  late  to  pray 
for  an  interest  in  him  who  is  ''as  an  hiding-place  from 
the  wind,  and  a  covert  from  the  tempest."  What  a 
poor,  desolate,  solitary  wretch  you  will  be  then ;  sur- 
rounded, it  may  be,  by  no  Christian  friends,  and  in- 
capable, it  is  very  likely,  of  deriving  the  slightest  ad- 
vantage even  from  the  whole  appliances  of  the  gospel 
of  God  !  You  will,  perhaps,  in  these  circumstances, 
make  a  last  eflbrt  to  reach  the  ark — Christ — whom  you 
at  present  despise.  But  it  will  be  in  vain.  That  door 
LS  shut — and  if  it  be  shut  against  you,  so  must  also 
be  the  door  of  heaven.  Ararat's  peak  was,  and  only 
could  be,  reached  by  Noah,  in  the  ark  ;  and  you 
shall  never  dwell  on  the  heights  of  mount  Zion, 
unless  you  go  thither  "  in  Christ  Jesus."  "  Behold, 
then,  now  is  the  accepted  time  ;  behold,  now  is  the 
day  of  salvation." 


MOUNT    MORIAH, 


THE    VICTORIES    OF     FAITH. 


Abraham  was  the  most  illustrious  of  the  patriarchs. 
He  lived  about  four  hundred  years  after  the  deluge. 
There  is  reason  to  conclude  that  he  was  a  partaker 
of  the  idolatry  which  universally  prevailed.  In  the 
seventy-fifth  year  of  his  age  he  was  ''  effectually 
called."  Jehovah  appeared  to  him,  and  commanded 
him  to  arise  and  leave  his  country  and  kindred,  to  go, 
the  patriarch  knew  not  where,  but  with  a  divine 
promise  that  of  him  God  would  yet  make  a  great 
nation.  At  that  time  Abraham  was  childless.  Some 
time  after  this,  when  he  was  sojourning  in  the  plain 
of  Moreh,  the  Lord  appeared  unto  him,  and  repeated 
the  promise  of  offspring,  which  was  as  yet  unfulfilled. 
Years  again  elapsed,  and  Jehovah,  for  the  third  time, 
honored  his  servant  with  a  revelation  of  his  purposes. 
On  this  occasion,  however,  the  very  time  of  the  child's 
birth  was  specified.  That  "  set  time"  in  due  course 
arrived,  and  Isaac  was  born. 

The  faith  of  Abraham  and  Sarah,  so  long  tried,  was 
now  rewarded.  Within  their  humble  tent  they  pos- 
sessed him  in  whom  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  to 
be  blessed.     The  unchangeable  God  had  assured  them 


44  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

of  this,  and  they  were  relieved  of  fears  about  his  fu- 
ture preservation.  They  would,  no  doubt,  indulge 
the  hope  of  enjoying  his  society  during  the  closing 
years  of  their  own  pilgrimage.  The  children  of  other 
parents  might  die  ;  Ishmael,  the  son  of  the  bond- 
woman, might  die  ;  but  Isaac  could  not  die,  in  child- 
hood nor  in  youth.  He  was  to  live  to  be  the  father 
of  a  great  people,  more  numerous  than  the  stars  of 
heaven.  What  endearing  conversation,  concerning 
such  a  child,  would  often  pass  between  the  aged 
couple  I  How  natural  that  they  should  indulge  in 
anticipations  of  his  future  greatness — his  honored  in- 
tercourses with  God — his  increasing  opulence,  and 
numerous  descendants !  To  his  education  and  im- 
provement, in  everything  corresponding  with  these 
hopes,  they  would  unceasingly  devote  their  attention, 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  their  success.  In  their 
eyes,  Isaac  would  grow  up  a  pattern  of  everything 
most  estimable.  They  were,  therefore,  now  at  ease. 
The  shades  of  evening  were  fast  gathering  around 
them.  Isaac  was  twenty-five  years  of  age — his 
father's  hope  and  his  mother's  joy — and  they  looked 
ere  long  to  be  gathered  to  their  people,  leaving  him  to 
be  the  heir,  not  only  of  all  their  wealth,  but  of  the 
exceeding  precious  promise  that,  in  him  and  in  his 
seed,  nations  yet  unborn  should  be  blessed. 

The  patriarch  was  now,  and  had  for  some  time 
been,  dwelling  in  Beersheba,  where  he  ''  had  planted 
a  grove,  and  called  there  on  the  name  of  the  Lord,  the 
everlasting  God."  It  is  far  from  improbable  that  he 
was  thus  engaged  when  he  was  favored  with  another 
visit  from  Jehovah.  But  what  could  now  be  the  ob- 
ject of  this  return  of  the  Holy  One  ?  A  long  time  had 
elapsed  since  they  spake  face  to  face.  The  fondest 
wish  of  the  patriarch's  heart  had  been  gratified,  and  he 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  45 

only  waited  his  peaceful  dismissal  into  rest.  Through 
many  severe  trials  he  had  passed.  He  might  now 
calculate  that,  in  the  decline  of  life,  ''  the  days  of  his 
mourning  were  ended,"  and  that  he  and  his  beloved 
Sarah  would  go  down  to  the  grave  amid  the  regrets 
of  their  household,  and  the  filial  devotedness  of  Isaac. 
How  sadly  mistaken  was  this  good  man  in  his  inter- 
pretations of  a  future  Providence  I  At  no  period  of 
life  are  even  the  children  of  God  secured  against  its 
trying  vicissitudes ;  and  oft,  when  they  have  battled 
bravely  through  its  storms,  and  thought  they  could 
foresee  a  calm  passage  into  the  desired  haven,  does 
the  bitterest  tempest  of  all  arise,  in  the  very  midst  of 
which,  perhaps,  their  celestial  inheritance  is  reached, 
only,  however,  over  the  previous  shipwreck  of  worldly 
comforts  and  cherished  temporal  hopes.  Thus  the 
time  came  when  Abraham  was  commanded  to  put 
Isaac  to  death  on  the  mount  Moriah.  Let  us  con- 
template for  a  little  the  mountain  itself,  where  the 
scene  referred  to  occurred. 


PART    I. 

THE     MOUNTAIN. 

ACRA ZION MAHOMMEDAN"    CLAIMS THE    MOSQUE MORIAH 

THE    SITE    OF    THE    THREE    TEMPLES. 

Possessed  of  none  of  the  natural  grandeurs  of  Ar- 
arat, there  are  yet  some  things  peculiarly  worthy  of 
notice  in  the  topography  of  Moriah.  In  ages  long 
after  the  days  of  Abraham,  it  became  the  site  of  the 


46  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

temple  built  by  king  Solomon.  It  does  not  appear, 
however,  that  in  the  patriarch's  time  there  were  any 
buildings  either  on  it  or  near  it.  On  the  contrary,  we 
learn  that  there  was  a  thicket  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood, where  the  ram  was  caught  which  was  offered 
for  a  burnt-offering  in  the  stead  of  Isaac.  There  was 
another  hill  beside  it,  called  Acra,  on  which  the  city 
of  Jebus  was  afterwards  built ;  which  Jebus  came 
latterly  to  be  called  Jerusalem.  But  to  convey  a 
more  distinct  idea  of  the  precise  situation  of  mount 
Moriah,  it  may  be  noticed  that  Jerusalem  was  built 
on  two  hills,  named  Acra  and  Zion,  the  one  confront- 
ing the  other,  while  naturally  lower  down  was  Moriah, 
separated  from  them  only  by  a  broad  valley ;  which 
valley  was  afterwards  filled  up  by  the  Asmoneans,  for 
the  purpose  of  joining  the  city  itself  to  the  temple, 
which  was  built  on  Moriah.  We  are  told  that  Sol- 
omon built  a  causeway  from  his  palace  on  mount 
Zion  to  this  temple  on  Moriah,  which  was  of  easy  as- 
cent and  descent.  This  eminence  lay  to  the  north- 
east part  of  Jerusalem,  and  has  been  sometimes  reck- 
oned part  of  the  hill  of  Zion. 

The  precise  locality  of  the  scene  in  the  text  has 
been  disputed.  The  Samaritans  contended  that  the 
trial  of  Abraham  was  upon  their  favorite  mountain 
Gerizzim.  Hence,  Dr.  Wilson,  in  his  recent  admira- 
ble work  on  the  "  Lands  of  the  Bible,"  tells  us  that, 
when  on  his  way  from  Jerusalem  to  Tiberias,  he  as- 
cended Gerizzim,  and  was  showm  by  his  guides  the 
place  where,  they  said,  Abraham  offered  up  Isaac.  On 
the  same  mountain  the  Samaritans  had  their  temple, 
which  was  rival  to  that  built  by  Solomon.  The  Ma- 
hommedans  also  contend  that  the  site  of  their  famous 
temple  at  Mecca  was  the  scene  of  the  patriarch's  trial, 
but  they  naturally  substitute  Ishmael  for  Isaac.     It 


MOUNT    MORIAH,  .  47 

certainly  must  be  looked  upon  as  somewhat  singular, 
that  Samaritans,  Jews,  and  iMahommedans,  should  all 
fix  upon  the  sites  of  their  temples  as  having  been  the 
scene  of  this  interesting  event.  Moriah,  however,  was 
neither  at  Gerizzim  nor  Mecca,  but  beside  mounts 
Zion  and  Acra,  upon  which,  in  latter  days,  the  holy 
city  was  built — even  Jerusalem,  "  the  city  of  the 
great  king."  That  the  temple  was  built  on  it  we 
learn  from  second  Chronicles,  third  chapter  and  first 
verse,  where  it  is  said, ''  Then  Solomon  began  to  build 
the  house  of  the  Lord  at  Jerusalem  in  mount  Moriah, 
where  the  Lord  appeared  unto  David  his  father,  in  the 
place  that  David  had  prepared  in  the  threshing-floor 
of  Oman  the  Jebusite."  When  the  temple  was  reared, 
the  ark  of  the  testimony  was  removed  thither  from  its 
place  on  mount  Zion ;  and  when  this  magnificent 
structure  was,  four  hundred  years  afterwards,  de- 
stroyed by  the  Babylonians,  the  second  temple  was 
erected  by  Zerubbabel  on  the  same  site.  When  again 
this  edifice  was  plundered  by  Antiochus  Epiphanes, 
the  third  was  reared  and  beautified  by  Herod,  where 
the  former  ones  had  stood ;  and,  ever  since  the  Roman 
soldiers  under  Titus,  according  to  our  Lord's  predic- 
tion, completely  demolished  the  third,  the  place  has 
been  regarded  as  one  of  very  singular  interest  by  the 
succeeding  governors  of  the  land  of  Syria.  At  this 
moment,  Moriah,  the  scene  of  Abraham's  offering  up 
of  his  son,  and  the  site  of  the  three  successive  temples, 
is  occupied  by  a  splendid  Moslem  mosque,  the  re- 
nowned Sakara,  built  by  the  caliph  Omar.  At  pres- 
ent both  Moriah  and  Acra  are  scarcely  discernible  as 
elevations  on  the  platform  where  Jerusalem  stands. 
This  arises,  probably,  from  the  gradual  filling  up  of 
the  interjacent  valleys.  Except  at  mount  Zion,  which 
is  the  elevated  termination  of  that  platform  towards 


48  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

the  south,  the  general  level  of  the  site  is  below  that 
of  the  immediately  surrounding  country ;  though, 
considering  that  it  is  not  very  distant  from  the  sea,  its 
positive  elevation  above  the  sea-level  is  considerable. 

Let  us  now  meditate  for  awhile  on  the  sublime 
associations  of  Moriah  with  the  faith  of  the  patriarch, 
and  the  movements  of  the  Deity. 


PART   II. 

THE  TRIAL  OF  THE  PATRIARCH  ON  MORIAH  ! 

A    TRIAL    OF    NATURAL    AFFECTION OF    FAITH OF    PATIENCE 

AND     FORTITUDE THE     SPLENDID     EFFECTS     OF      GENUINE 

PIETY. 

In  shortly  reviewing  the  nature  and  extent  of  the 
trial  to  which,  on  Moriah,  Abraham  was  subjected,  we 
notice, 

I  I.     It    WAS    A    TRIAL    OF     HIS     NATURAL     AFFECTION. 

^*-Abraham  was  rich  in  flocks  and  herds,  and  would 
have  been  ready,  we  cannot  doubt,  to  have  sacrificed 
them  all  at  the  command  of  God.  He  was  rich  also 
in  man-servants  and  maid-servants,  and  if  it  had  been 
enjoined  on  him,  he  would  have  offered  any  one  of 
them,  though  it  might  be  with  painful  emotions.  He 
was  fortunate,  too,  in  having  Eliezer  of  Damascus  as 
the  steward  of  his  house,  and  him  he  would  uot  have 
hesitated  to  sacrifice.  He  had,  besides,  another  son, 
Ishmael,  whom  he  tenderly  loved,  and  even  Ishmael 
he  would  not  have  withheld.  But,  everything  con- 
sidered, natural  affection  was  more  awfully  tested  by 


MOUNT    MORIAII.  49 

the  order  from  heaven  to  go  and  sacrifice  Isaac,  his 
only  son — the  son  whom  he  loved  with  a  very  peculiar 
and  intense  affection.  And  if  he  so  loved  this  child, 
God  himself  had  taught  him  to  do  it,  by  making  him 
wait  so  long  for  his  birth,  and  by  associating  with  his 
future  history  the  glory  of  his  house.  And  what  is  it 
that  God  requires  him  to  do  ?  When  first  the  voice 
reaches  his  ear,  he  is  ready  to  hear  and  obey.  It  con- 
cerns Isaac,  and  perhaps  the  thought  would  suggest 
itself  that  now  somewhat  of  the  future  eminence  of 
his  son  was  to  be  communicated.  Visions  of  earthly 
splendor  might  pass  before  his  mind,  and  the  parental 
pride  might  even  then  be  gratified  by  anticipating  for 
him  the  obeisance  of  surrounding  kingdoms.  "  Take 
now  thy  son,  thine  only  son  Isaac,  whom  thou  lovest, 
and  get  thee  into  the  land  of  Moriah."  The  patriarch 
might  already  have  realized  the  separation  of  Isaac 
from  himself  at  some  future  period,  and  indulged  the 
fond  hope  that,  if  this  should  be  the  will  of  God,  the 
distance  between  them  might  be  such  as  to  admit  of 
their  occasional  fellowship.  How  delightful  to  him, 
then,  under  such  impressions,  to  hear  that  Moriah  was 
the  place  to  which  they  were  to  repair — only  three 
days'  journey  from  Beersheba !  But  the  reaction  on 
the  parental  heart  must  have  been  dreadful  beyond 
description,  when  the  closing  words  fell  upon  his  ear, 
— "  and  offer  him  there  for  a  burnt-offering,  upon  one 
of  the  mountains  which  I  will  tell  thee  of." 

II.  It  was  a  trial  of  his  faith. — Isaac  was  not 
only  his  son,  but  the  son  of  promise,  and  Abraham 
was  already  in  possession  of  assurances  from  God 
himself  that  this  very  child  would  become  the  father 
of  a  great  people.  Herein,  then,  lay  a  trial  of  faith. 
He  believed  God's  word,  and  yet  he  must  act  in  direct 
opposition  to  what  to  reason  appeared  subversive  of 

3 


50  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

that  word.  He  believed  that  Isaac  would  become 
everything  God  had  predicted  he  should  be.  He  be- 
lieved God  to  be  sincere  in  all  his  promises  concerning 
that  son.  He  believed  at  the  same  time  that  this  son 
he  must  put  to  death,  and  that  within  three  days. 
This  he  believed  he  would  do,  and  had  no  idea  that 
the  divine  mandate  should  be  recalled  as  it  ultimately 
was,  nor  even  that  Isaac  should  be  restored  to  life 
after  the  sacrifice.  This  was  just  as  severe  a  trial  as 
faith  could  possibly  be  subjected  to,  and  fit  to  be  placed 
beside  the  temptation  to  natural  affection  of  which  we 
have  spoken.  "  Now  faith,"  we  are  told,  "  is  the  sub- 
stance of  things  hoped  for."  How,  then,  was  this  ele- 
ment of  faith  tested  hero?  *' The  things  hoped  for" 
by  Abraham  v/ere,  Isaac's  prosperity  and  Isaac's  pos- 
terity. These  things  were  substantially  before  him  in 
the  life  of  his  son,  and  in  the  inward  persuasion  or 
faith  that  that  life  would  not  be  destroyed,  and  though 
destroyed,  would  yet  be  the  productive  cause  of  these 
expected  blessings  in  a  way  and  manner  unknown  in 
that  case  to  him,  but  perfectly  well  known  to  that 
God  whose  word  was  pledged  for  it.  But  faith  is  also 
"  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen;"  and  how  was  this 
element  tested  in  the  crucible  of  this  trial?  Thus, 
the  things  not  seen  by  the  patriarch  were  the  future 
fortunes  of  Isaac,  and  God's  mode  of  unravelling  the 
present  mystery.  Accordingly,  his  conviction  that 
such  fortunes  were  safe  in  God's  hands,  and  would  be 
accomplished  in  God's  time,  was  as  good  to  him  in 
the  way  of  enjoyment,  as  if  these  invisible  things  had 
started  into  existence  before  his  eyes.  His  faith  was 
to  him  in  the  stead  of  actual  substance,  and  as  con- 
firmatory of  the  existence  of  such  a  substance,  as  if 
the  evidence  of  sight  had  been  added  to  the  testimony 
of  faith.     Still,  it  must  be  repeated,  to  his  faith  this 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  51 

was  a  most  dreadful  trial.  Never  before  had  God  so 
experimented  upon  the  confidence  of  any  son  of  Adam, 
and  never  before  had  God  been  so  greatly  glorified  by 
the  immovable  adherence  of  that  confidence  in  his  im- 
maculate veracity. 

III.  It  was  a  trial  of  his  patiexce  and  forti- 
tude.— When  the  human  mind  is  called  on  to  submit 
to  some  painful  sacrifice,  either  of  affection  or  faith, 
there  is  a  strong  dasire  to  have  the  trial  quickly  over. 
Between  the  purpose  formed,  and  the  purpose  exe- 
cuted, there  is  sometimes  more  real  agony  endured 
than  in  actual  suffering, — 

"  The  fears  of  fancy  are  most  terrible ; 
But  when  the  apprehended  misery  comes, 
The  spirit  smiles  to  feel  how  bearable 
The  heaviest  stroke  of  heaven." 

Hence  it  is  possible  that  the  spirit  of  a  man,  which 
would  sustain  him  under  the  infliction  of  an  evil, 
would  utterly  break  down  in  the  interval,  were  it  pro- 
longed, during  which  he  must  brood  in  misery  over 
his  anticipated  struggles.  True  heroism  in  war  con- 
sists in  the  calm  and  unfaltering  march  of  the  veteran 
to  the  cannon's  mouth.  All  that  follows  this  is  but 
the  desperate  energy  of  an  unbridled  natural  instinct, 
intensely  bent  on  the  preservation  of  one  life  by  the 
sacrifice  of  many.  True  martyrdom  is  not  exempli- 
fied in  the  composed  resignation  of  life  at  the  block,  or 
in  the  fire,  but  in  the  silent  and  cheerful  endurance  of 
the  intermediate  contests  with  flesh  and  blood,  and  of 
the  invariable  peril  to  life  and  liberty  to  which  the 
confessor  is  every  moment  conscious  that  he  is  ex- 
posed. Whatever  follows  this,  is  but  the  gentle  lapse 
into  sleep  of  a  child  of  heaven  on  the  bosom  of  truth. 
Now  this  was  eminently  the  case  with  the  father  of 


52  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

the  faithful  in  this  trial.  The  instruction  was,  not  to 
put  Isaac  to  death  immediately,  but  in  three  days 
hence ;  not  in  the  tent,  or  in  the  grove  at  Beersheba, 
but  in  the  land  of  Moriah  ;  not  in  the  presence  of  his 
people,  to  whom  the  divine  request  might  be  made 
known  and  explained,  and  who  might  maintain  his 
purpose  of  obedience  by  their  acquiescence,  but  alone — 
alone  on  the  top  of  the  mountain  with  the  beloved  and 
lovely  victim. 

What  heart  does  not  throb  with  emotion  as  it  fol- 
lows that  father  on  such  a  journey  !  Let  us  picture 
to  our  minds  the  family  of  the  patriarch  assembled 
that  night  for  the  worship  of  God, — A_braham  presides, 
Sarah  sits  beside  him,  and  before  him  were  Isaac  and 
the  household.  The  father's  eye  is  fixed  on  the  sacred 
boy — the  child  of  a  divine  promise.  He  believes  that 
this  happy  domestic  circle  is  soon  to  be  diminished,  and 
that  never  again  in  the  praises  of  God  shall  that  melo- 
dious voice  of  Isaac  be  heard  within  that  humble  tent, 
the  scene  of  his  birth,  the  witness  of  his  childhood's 
prattle  and  play,  and  the  sanctuary  of  all  the  mother's 
fondest,  of  all  the  father's  deepest  sympathies.  There 
is  no  tremulousness  in  the  voice,  no  change  in  the 
countenance,  no  tear  in  the  eye,  by  which  either 
mother  or  son  or  servant  could  discover  the  welling 
emotions  of  his  heart.  They  retire  to  rest.  He  sees 
the  mother  embrace  her  son,  as  he  thinks,  for  the  last 
time,  but  still  he  commands  himself,  and  keeps  at  once 
his  secret  and  his  spirit  under.  The  morn  dawns ; 
thp  patriarch  rises  with  the  sun ;  he  calmly  makes 
provision  for  the  sacrifice  on  Moriah,  and  summons 
Isaac  and  two  servants  to  follow.  As  he  quits  the 
tent,  is  he  tempted  to  divulge  tlie  truth  to  the  mother, 
and  afford  her  a  last  opportunity  of  folding  that  dear 
son  in  her  arms  ?     No  ;  he  never  thinks  of  it.     This 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  53 

would  be  placing  too  much  of  nature  in  the  road  of 
faith,  and  he  might  stagger  in  his  purpose.  He  is 
quiet,  collected,  and  unimpassioned.  Why  ?  He  has 
got  work  to  do  which  the  great  God  who  brought  him 
from  Ur  of  the  Chaldees,  gave  him  to  do :  and  what 
was  he  that  he  should  delay  ?  It  is  God's  work  !  He 
holds  on  his  way,  sometimes  walking  alone,  and  some- 
times with  Isaac  at  his  side ;  nature  working,  as  it 
ought,  in  solemn  seriousness,  and  faith  working,  as  it 
ought,  in  perfect  control  of  nature. 

But  the  sun  is  now  setting,  and  the  twilight  casts 
its  sombre  shade  over  the  plain.  They  pitch  their 
tent,  and  after  the  usual  evening  devotion,  retire  to 
rest.  Thus  also  passed  the  second  day  of  their  travel ; 
and  on  the  third  "  Abraham  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  saw 
the  place  afar  off."  He  takes  the  wood  of  the  burnt- 
offering  ;  he  lays  it  on  his  son ;  he  takes  the  fire  and 
the  knife ;  and  leaving  the  two  servants  behind,  they 
go  together  to  Moriah.  For  awhile  they  are  silent. 
They  converse  at  length.  The  obedient  son,  confiding 
hitherto  in  his  parent's  superior  wisdom  and  piety, 
proposes  a  question  which,  in  the  circumstances,  is 
replete  with  a  pathos  unparalleled :  "  And  Isaac  spake 
unto  Abraham  his  father,  and  said.  My  father ;  and 
he  said.  Here  am  I,  my  son.  And  he  said,  Behold 
the  fire  and  the  wood;  but  where  is  the  lamb  for  a 
burnt-offering  ?"  Many  a  sportive  lamb  from  the  fold 
at  Beersheba  had  the  pious  Isaac  brought  to  his  father's 
altar,  and  stood  by  and  witnessed  the  patriarch  priest 
shed  its  blood;  but  here  was  wood,  and  there  was 
fire,  but  where  the  lamb  ?  This  question  appears  to 
be  the  crisis  in  the  trial  of  natural  affection,  and  now, 
if  ever,  will  the  weakness  of  the  man  give  way  before 
the  yearnings  of  the  parent.  It  is  not  so.  How  calm 
the  reply  as  they  move  on  to  the  mount :  "  My  son, 


54  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

God  will  provide  himself  a  lamb  for  a  burnt-offering !" 
So,  this  struggle  over,  they  both  went  on  together. 
They  gain  the  hill,  they  come  to  the  very  place,  and 
in  a  short  space  of  time  an  altar  is  reared,  Isaac  look- 
ing on,  and  wondering  where  God's  lamb  was  to  be 
found.  His  father  approaches  him,  stretches  forth  his 
hands,  and  forthwith  proceeds  to  bind  him  as  the  sac- 
rifice. Isaac  submits  in  silence.  This  he  could  easily 
have  resisted.  Abraham  was  an  old  man,  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  years  old ;  the  son  was  in  the 
prime  and  vigor  of  life,  only  twenty-five ;  but  the  one 
was  as  willing  as  the  other.  Nothing  so  finely  demon- 
strates this  as  the  circumstance  that  Isaac  was  laid 
alive  upon  the  altar.  It  was  the  invariable  custom 
to  slay  the  animal  first,  and  then,  when  dead,  to  place 
it  on  the  altar  to  be  burnt.  But  had  Abraham  done 
this,  his  strength  might  not  have  been  equal,  to  lift  up 
the  dead  body  of  his  son.  To  relieve  and  assist  the 
father,  the  son  censents  to  be  bound  alive,  and  when 
stretched  upon  the  altar,  awaits  the  fall  of  the  fatal 
knife.  This  appears  to  be  the  crisis  in  the  trial  of 
faith.  If  that  weapon  is  plunged  into  this  bosom, 
heaving  with  young  life,  how  is  it  possible  even  for 
God  to  make  that  dead  body  fruitful  ?  Where  shall 
another  Isaac  be  found  ?  The  father's  faith  in  God, 
however,  equals  the  son's  resignation  to  God;  he 
bares  his  arm  ;  takes  the  knife  ;  raises  it ;  and  in  an- 
other moment  the  blood  of  the  son  of  promise  would 
have  purpled  the  green  sod  of  Moriah.  But  the  trial 
was  past ;  natural  affection  had  been  subdued  ;  faith 
and  patience  had  had  their  perfect  work  ;  God  had 
been  obeyed  ;  the  spirituahty  of  the  patriarch  had  been 
greatly  increased  in  the  furnace ;  and  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  illustrations  of  the  power  of  faith  had 
been  given,  for  an  example  to  all  coming  generations. 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  55 

Abraham  believes  and  obeys  ;  Isaac  submits  and  lives; 
and  God  is  glorified. 

Behold,  then,  in  all  this,  how  true  piety  contributes 
to  enlighten  and  empower  the  human  mind  !  That 
the  patriarch  was  possessed  of  a  superior  intellect,  is 
clear  from  the  above  illustrations.  It  is  true,  his  past 
life  had  been  but  ill  adapted  to  what  is  called  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  mental  faculties.  He  was  an  Hebrew  ; 
that  is,  a  wanderer.  He  had  little  or  no  intercourse 
with  men  above  or  equal  to  himself.  In  that  rude  age 
of  the  world,  neither  art  nor  science  could  have  en- 
gaged his  attention,  so  as  to  multiply  his  stores  of 
wisdom,  or  quicken  his  powers  of  reflection.  Still,  he 
was  a  man  enriched  with  the  substance  and  fertility 
of  such  sanctified  intelligence  as  has  not,  we  may 
venture  to  affirm,  been  paralleled  in  human  biography. 
The  human  passions,  even  in  the  most  civilized  con- 
dition, are  difficult  of  control ;  and  the  power  of  sense 
is  the  very  last  of  our  natural  endowments  that  sub- 
mits to  the  dictates  of  reason  and  the  requirements  of 
religion.  Few  men,  though  educated  in  the  morals 
of  a  developed  Christianity,  in  entering  the  lists  with 
those  severities  and  sacrifices  of  fife  which  crave  so 
much  conflict  in  "  the  hidden  part,"  have  been  able  so 
to  embody  in  their  life  the  first  principles  of  religion, 
as  to  demonstrate  the  supremacy  of  divine  faith  over 
human  failings.  But  Abraham  did  this.  His  mind 
had  much  innate  power,  because  it  lived  up  in  that 
pure  region  where  habitual  intercourse  with  God  can 
alone  be  maintained.  This  was  the  secret  of  his  in- 
tellectual excellence.  His  companion  was  God.  His 
study  was  God.  His  aim  was  conformity  to  God. 
His  object  always  and  everywhere  was  the  glory  of 
God.  Consequently  he  grew  in  that  knowledge  of 
God,  which  is  the  true  and  only  process  by  which  he 


56  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

attained  to  his  eminence  as  a  man  of  mind,  as  well  as 
a  man  of  faith.  There  is,  indeed,  no  process  through 
which  the  human  understanding  can  be  carried,  so 
absolutely  certain  to  reifine  and  exalt  its  faculties,  as 
such  communion  with  Jehovah.  Here  it  dwells  in 
light ;  meditates  on  truth  ;  acquires  power  ;  imbibes 
purity,  and  grasps  perfection.  Apart  from  the  unset- 
tled elements  of  an  inferior  scholarship,  its  elasticity 
is  undepressed  by  the  damps  of  this  humid  clime,  its 
penetration  is  undisturbed  by  falsities  in  principle  or 
errors  in  reasoning,  and  its  solid  improvement  is  safely 
insured  by  a  rapid  and  animating  discovery  of  new 
and  astonishing  truths.  We  are  apt  to  think  that  the 
inhabitants  of  an  infant  world,  destitute  of  the  advan- 
tages which  now  quicken  the  mind  and  endow  it  with 
the  treasures  of  a  more  matured  age,  are  greatly  to  be 
pitied,  as  having  occupied  a  lower  platform,  and  served 
an  inferior  purpose  in  creation.  This,  in  a  most  im- 
portant respect,  is  a  grievous  misapprehension.  Con- 
sider Abraham !  Born  and  living  all  his  days  in  an 
€ra  unenlightened  by  knowledge,  and  rendered  still 
more  dark  by  idolatry,  and  not  possessed  of  any  one  of 
those  helps  to  mental  culture  upon  which  men  now 
plume-  themselves,  and  say,  was  there  ever  among 
men  any  mere  intellectual  stature  that  equalled  his — 
any  conceptions  of  the  Supreme  Being  more  truthful 
or  comprehensive — any  mastery  of  the  human  pas- 
sions so  perfect — any  achievements  of  spirit  over  mat- 
ter, faith  over  sense,  or  reason  over  superstition,  that 
can  at  aU  match  with  his  ?  And  yet,  he  had  no  com- 
panionships ;  no  competitors  ;  no  inducements  beyond 
the  circle  of  his  own  tents,  and  the  precincts  of  his 
own  altar  grounds  ;  no  Bibles ;  no  priests  ;  no  ordi- 
nances, such  as  we  have !  What  value  should  not 
this  teach  us  to  set  on  the  life  of  fellowship  with  God ! 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  57 

Restricted  to  this,  we  may  lack  the  phylacteries  and 
coronets  of  modern  philosophies ;  but,  possessed  of 
this,  we  shall  secure  our  own  gradual  assimilation  to 
the  image  of  God,  which  is  knowledge,  righteousness, 
and  true  holiness.  Let  no  man,  then,  despise  the  op- 
portunities and  privileges  of  true  piety,  as  if  these 
alone  could  not  fit  him  to  take  his  place,  and  act  his 
part,  among  the  most  illustrious  of  his  race.  Let  but 
these  be  conscientiously  improved  by  him,  and  he  will 
speedily  be  as  far  removed,  in  respect  of  true  great- 
ness, from  the  possessors  of  mere  earthly  wisdom,  as 
are  the  angels  of  God  from  the  blundering  astrologers 
of  time.  In  a  word,  the  human  mind  can  be  "  thorousrh- 
ly  furnished  unto  every  good  work"  of  piety  towards 
God,  and  of  benevolence  towards  man ;  can  be  wrought 
up  to  meet,  to  battle  with,  and  master,  all  the  diffi- 
culties of  this  life ;  can  be  educated  for  joining  the  as- 
sociation of  the  highest  order  of  intelligent  beings ; 
can  be  prepared  to  meet  God  in  judgment,  and  to 
serve  God  through  all  eternity,  by  a  devout  and  habit- 
ual intercourse  with  God  himself,  and  God  alone. 
This  we  say,  not  to  deprecate  human  learning,  or  de- 
cry earthly  science,  but  simply  to  recommend  the  fife 
of  religion,  and  exalt  the  science  of  faith. 

3* 


58  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

PART   III. 

THE  SCENE  ON  MORIAH  IMPROVED. 

GOD     IN     HIS    SOVEREIGNTY MAN    ON    HIS    TRIALS FAITH    AT 

HER    PROPER    WORK    BETWEEN    THEM. 

I.  The  scene  invites  us  to  contemplate  God  in  his 
SOVEREIGNTY. — That  God  is  sovereign,  is  apparent  in 
all  his  intercourse  with  Abraham,  from  the  day  that  he 
gave  him  command  to  depart  from  his  native  country. 
This  call  was  made  irrespective  of  any  wish  or  claim 
of  the  patriarch  himself  Out  of  all  that  generation 
of  men,  it  may  be  asked,  why  was  Abraham  selected  ? 
And  why  was  it  not  Terah,  the  father,  rather  than 
Abraham,  the  son  ?  Or  why  was  it  not  from  a  former, 
or  why  not  from  a  succeeding  generation,  that  one  was 
chosen  to  become  an  instrument  in  God's  hands  for 
working  out  God's  mysterious  work  ?  Questions  such 
as  these  are  endless,  and  but  one  satisfactory  answer 
can  be  given  to  them :  God  is  sovereign.  He  has  a 
right  to  do  what  pleases  him  anywhere  and  every- 
where. "  Therefore  hath  he  mercy  on  whom  he  will 
have  mercy,  and  whom  he  will  he  hardeneth."  This 
exercise  of  sovereign  authority  is  quite  manifest  in 
what  may  be  called  God's  general  management  of  the 
affairs  of  all  his  creatures  and  their  works ;  and  to  this 
absolute  exercise  of  power,  whether  it  be  in  the  crea- 
tion or  destruction  of  nature,  in  the  punishment  or 
pardon  of  sin,  in  the  selection  of  men  or  the  abandon- 
ment of  devils,  no  intelligent  creature  of  God  ought  to 
object.  Being  creatures,  we  have  no  title  to  question 
God  on  any  matter  ;  and  being  sinners,  we  should  not 
seek  to  be  wise  above  what  is  written.     Our  ooniidence 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  59 

should  be  this  :  that  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  must 
do  what  is  right,  whether  we  perceive  it  or  not ;  and, 
if  we  find  it  not  only  expressed  in  scripture,  but  re- 
peated emphatically  in  Providence,  and,  in  fact,  re- 
echoed throughout  human  experience,  that  God  has 
electing  decrees  by  which  he  is  guided  in  his  gracious 
dealings  with  our  race,  we  are  bound  to  believe  it, 
though  we  cannot  reconcile  it  with  what,  after  all, 
may  on  our  part  be  very  erroneous  principles  of  rea- 
soning, Abraham  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  this 
humble  submission  of  the  mind  to  revelation.  God 
commanded  him  to  expatriate  himself;  and  thus  it  is 
written — how  simple,  yet  how  impressive  the  narra- 
tive ! — "  So  Abraham  departed."  God  promised  to 
give  him  a  son  by  Sarah,  who  was  barren ;  years 
passed  away,  he  and  Sarah  became  old  and  infirm,  and 
no  son  was  born.  The  arrangement  might  not  be  very 
satisfactory  to  them,  and  the  delay  in  fulfilling  the 
promise  might  seem  wanton  and  unnecessary  ;  but 
Abraham  waited  on  the  Lord,  confident  that  all  was 
well  considered,  that  all  v/ould  be  rightly  adjusted  at 
the  last ;  and  it  was  so.  That  son  of  promise  was 
born,  and  grew  up  to  manhood.  But  what  next? 
God  commanded  the  father  to  put  him  to  death.  Abra- 
ham rose  on  the  instant  to  do  it,  though  a  more 
stunning  injunction  was  never  offered  to  the  submis- 
sion of  a  rational  being.  It  is  all  one,  however,  to  the 
patriarch.  ''  God  is  sovereign ;  he  has  a  right  to  com- 
mand ;  I  have  no  right  to  question.  Do  what  he  bids, 
in  defiance  of  my  feelings,  of  my  light,  of  God's  own 
express  declaration,  I  must  and  Avill,  leaving  conse- 
quences to  him  who  supports  his  throne  on  righteous- 
ness and  judgment,  though  it  may  be  overshadowed 
by  clouds  and  darkness."  And  such,  brethren,  is  the 
use  we  all  ought  to  make  of  this  doctrine  of  the  divine 


\ 


60  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

sovereignty.  No  creature  ought  to  suppose  it  possible 
that  God  can  do  or  be  wrong,  whatever  be  his  doings 
or  sayings.  "  Let  God  be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar." 
But,  though  God  is  sovereign,  it  does  not  follow 
that  he  ever  acts,  or  can  act,  in  any  way  inconsistently 
with  his  absolute  perfections.  He  not  only  can  do 
what  he  pleases,  but  he  is  never  pleased  to  do  any- 
thing but  what  is  right.  All  his  attributes  act  in  per- 
fect harmony ;  and  hence  all  his  words  to,  or  dealings 
with,  his  creatures,  are  so  beautifully  compacted  to- 
gether, and  so  nicely  balanced,  that  no  dissonant  note 
is  ever  heard  among  his  decrees,  and  no  antagonism 
ever  introduced  to  occasion  conflict  among  his  handi- 
works. It  does  not  please  him  to  show  us,  at  present, 
all  the  various  links  of  the  chain  which  so  comiects  his 
numerous  dispensations,  either  in  nature  or  grace,  as 
to  produce  systematic  and  combined  results.  We  are 
certainly  kept  in  the  dark ;  and  for  this  he  has,  no 
doubt,  the  best  of  reasons.  Who  would  wish  it  other- 
wise, when  God  has  wished  it  so  ?  And  if  men  would 
but  curb  their  curiosity,  and  restrain  their  impatience 
but  for  a  little  time,  they  would  find  that,  in  the  end, 
God's  processes  with  them  are  altogether  just  and 
merciful.  To  many,  for  instance,  it  is  mysterious 
how  God  should  so  long  delay  the  fulfilment  of  his 
promises.  They  cower  down  beneath  the  clouds  of  his 
Providence,  timid  and  distrustful,  saying,  "  Are  his 
mercies  clean  gone  ?  Has  the  Lord  forgotten  to  be 
gracious?"  Now,  we  should  remember,  that  not  only 
does  God  promise,  but  he  determines  when  to  fulfil ; 
and  every  promise  of  his  receives  its  accomplishment 
at  the  very  moment  and  in  the  very  way  he  has  fixed. 
He  righteously  keeps  the  matter,  and  as  punctually 
the  time,  of  all  his  engagements.  Delay  with  God  is 
'  neither  to  be  accounted  loss  of  honor  nor  of  memory. 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  61 

He  is  not  "slack  concerning  his  promises,  as  some 
men  count  slackness,"  but  the  word  of  the  Lord  en- 
dureth  forever.  His  promise  is  always  and  honorably 
kept,  even  when,  as  appears  to  us,  he  is  literally  break- 
ing it  to  pieces.  The  patriarch  might  be  astonished 
when  he  was  required  to  sacrifice  his  Isaac ;  but  he 
had  faith  within  him,  and  God  had  honor  and  majesty 
before  him ;  so  Isaac  lived,  and  God's  veracity  re- 
mained intact.  Now,  we  should  judge  of  all  his 
actions  by  this  one.  It  is  recorded  that  we  might  have 
faith  and  consolation  in  the  midst  of  our  darkest  and 
severest  providences.  Rest  assured,  God  is  always 
right.  He  is  doing  you  no  wrong.  He  is  forgetting 
no  promise.  He  is  accomplishing  just  decrees.  He  is 
working  out  at  once  his  own  ends  and  your  own  wel- 
fare ;  and  if  we  are  to  accommodate  our  feelings,  in 
times  of  trouble,  to  his  express  declarations  on  this 
subject,  then  we  may  never  be  so  confident  of  a  re- 
markable manifestation  of  divine  power  and  love,  as 
when  all  is  getting  dark  above  our  heads,  and  the 
whole  framework  of  our  earthly  and  spiritual  comforts 
threatens  to  dissolve.  "  Man's  extremity  is  God's  op- 
portunity;" and  such  opportunities  he  knows  best 
when,  in  every  man's  history,  to  employ  for  command- 
ing deliverances  to  Jacob. 

"  The  mount  of  danger  is  the  place 
Where  you  shall  see  surprising  grace." 

II.  The  scene  invites  us  to  contemplate  man 
ON  HIS  TRIAL. — The  Intelligent  creatures  of  God  are, 
and  must  be,  in  an  important  sense,  continually  on  j 
trial.  The  angels  are  tried  in  heaven.  There  musf' 
be  some  principle  on  which  their  obedience  to  God  is 
tested  and  demonstrated.  Our  first  parents  were  tried 
in  Paradise;   and  though  the  condition  of  mankind 


62  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

has,  in  consequence  of  their  fall,  undergone  material 
changes,  the  original  constitution  of  things  remains 
the  same ;  the  creature  is  still  under  trial,  and  it  is 
still  by  his  Creator  that  he  is  tried.  His  allegiance  is 
tried  by  the  requirements  of  the  divine  law,  and  his 
nature  is  tried  by  the  inflictions  of  the  divine  rod.  Our 
subject,  however,  calls  rather  to  the  consideration  of 
man  tried  by  severe  affliction,  in  the  endurance  of 
which  his  corrupt  nature  is  tempted,  while  his  resigna- 
tion to  the  divine  will  is  put  to  the  proof.  Trials  of 
this  description  are  not  essential  to  the  manifestation 
of  our  submission  to  the  divine  law.  They  are  con- 
tingent upon  a  state  of  insubordination  to  that  law, 
and  are  superadded  to  the  former,  because  the  law  has 
been  broken,  and  that  the  law  may  again  be  ''  made 
honorable."  It  is  in  this  view  that  all  trials  among 
men  in  general  should  be  considered,  and  especially 
the  trials  of  those  who  by  grace  are  the  believing 
children  of  the  Most  High. 

Believers  are  God's  children  by  adoption.  Hence 
their  Father,  to  prosecute  the  ends  of  their  adoption, 
sees  it  necessary  to  administer  the  rod  to  them ;  not 
willingly,  that  is,  not  from  any  wanton  delight  in 
their  suffering,  but  from  a  constraining  love  of  their 
spiritual  wellbeing,  which,  it  is  apparent,  imperiously 
requires  this  mode  of  treatment.  If  they  could  do 
without  it,  or  if  there  were  some  better  way  by  which 
their  natures  could  be  improved,  we  may  rest  assured 
that  no  tribulations  would  be  mingled  with  the  lot  of 
the  righteous  ;  hence  we  are  expressly  told,  that  "  no 
chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but 
grievous,  nevertheless,  afterward,  it  yieldeth  the  peace- 
able fruit  of  righteousness  unto  them  which  are  exer- 
cised thereby." 

All    this   is    forcibly    illustrated   in   the   trials   of 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  63 

Abraham.  He  was  chosen  of  God  to  walk  with  God. 
He  was  a  remarkably  good  man ;  and  the  most  honor- 
able title  that  can  be  conferred  on  any  being,  however 
exalted  in  rank,  was  first  given  to  him — Jehovah  con- 
descended to  call  him  his  friend.  Who,  then,  so  like- 
ly, so  certain,  as  the  friend  of  God,  to  be  saved  from 
the  trials  afflictive  to  human  nature  ?  And  yet,  after 
all,  no  other  man  was  ever  so  severely  tried.  Hence, 
we  may  infer,  that  no  degree  of  intimacy  with  the 
divine  Being;  no  amount  of  his  friendship,  however 
largely  it  may  be  enjoyed ;  no  attainments  in  grace 
and  godliness,  however  many  and  bright,  render  trials 
unnecessary,  or  diminish  the  probability  of  our  present 
exposure  to  them. 

The  spectacle  of  a  good  man  enduring  his  afflictions 
is  truly  sublime.  His  temptations  must  be  regarded 
as  the  temptations  of  the  Holy  One  of  Israel ;  for  it  is 
said,  "  God  did  tempt  Abraham."  They  must  be 
connected  with  the  mysterious  revolutions  of  a  uni- 
versal Providence,  by  which  all  things  are  made  to 
*'work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God." 
The  apostle  says,  ^'' all  things.''''  How  comprehensive ! 
Things  remote  as  to  time  and  place,  and  things  at 
hand ;  things  above,  and  things  below ;  things  brilliant 
with  the  smiles,  and  dazzling  with  the  sunshine  of 
Jehovah's  countenance,  as  well  as  things  blackened 
with  the  shade  of  his  frown ;  things  that  make  the 
mountains  and  caverns  vocal  with  their  thunder,  and 
things  that  breathe  out  their  whispers  in  the  ear  of  si- 
lence ;  things  that  receive  the  loud  applause  of  heaven, 
and  things  that  call  down  the  satire  and  contempt  of 
earth ;  things  that  appear  to  be  all  in  musical  har- 
mony with  one  another,  and  things  that  torture  the 
mind  with  their  screeching  dissonance;  things  that 
bless,  and  things  that  curse ;  things  of  God,  and  things 


64  MOUNT    MORIAII. 

of  man ;  things  of  heaven,  and  things  of  hell ;  all 
these  things,  and  every  other  thing,  we  are  bound  to 
associate  together,  as  forming  a  magnificent  and  suc- 
cessful order  of  means — not  acting  apart,  independent 
of  one  another,  but  all  working  together — all  in  uni- 
son, and  the  entire  influence  of  their  gigantic  co-opera- 
tion bearing  directly,  minutely,  and  perpetually,  on 
the  good  of  all  and  of  each  of  the  lovers  of  God.  To 
him,  then,  who  has  spirituality  enough  to  realize  a 
good  man  undergoing  such  a  process,  up  to  the  very 
article  of  death,  no  more  imposing  moral  spectacle  can 
be  exhibited.  The  history  of  such  a  man,  indeed,  is 
next  thing  to  a  narrative  of  miracles,  which,  when 
attentively  perused,  appear  in  the  three  following 
views  of  God's  probationer  : — 

1.  That  man,  sinful  and  weak,  should  ever  encoun- 
ter God  upon  any  arena,  without  being  at  once  and 
forever  crushed  like  a  moth,  is  somewhat  incompre- 
hensible. The  difficulty  is  increased  when  we  consider 
that  God's  intercourses  with  man  must  now  demon- 
strate his  indignation  at  sin,  and  his  purpose  to  punish 
it.  It  is  true,  all  this  is  easily  accounted  for,  now 
that  the  atonement  has  been  made  and  accepted  of; 
still,  even  in  the  case  of  the  believer,  it  is  not  without 
a  great  share  of  the  marvellous.  He,  too,  all  justified 
as  he  is,  and  greatly  beloved  of  God,  for  Christ's  sake, 
is  often  carried  into  the  deep  sea  of  trouble,  and  all 
the  billows  of  God  pass  over  him :  yet  is  he  not  de- 
stroyed. His  life  remains  in  him,  and,  what  is  more 
astonishing,  his  religion  remains  in  him.  He  may  be 
in  Egyptian  dungeons ;  he  may  be  stretched  out  in 
the  den  of  lions ;  he  may  be  cast  into  the  fiery  fur- 
nace ;  he  may  be  hunted  like  a  partridge  on  the 
mountains ;  he  may  have  for  enemies  those  of  his  own 
kindred ;  he  may  live  to  see  his  children  swept  into 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  65 

the  eternal  world,  perhaps  unprepared  for  judgment ; 
and,  ere  he  himself  dies,  he  who  was  once  clothed  in 
purple,  may  he  begging  in  rags.  But  still  he  is  found 
enduring,  still  praising,  still  content,  still  hopeful; 
and  never  for  one  moment  disposed  to  yield  to  the 
temptation  of  Satan,  to  "  curse  God  and  die."  In  all 
this,  we  see  a  short-sighted  sinful  creature,  whom  the 
breath  of  God's  mouth  could  in  a  moment  annihilate, 
supported  amid  trials  before  which  the  vaunting  mor- 
alist, and  the  cold-hearted  stoic,  are  carried  away  like 
chaff.  Clothed  in  the  whole  armor  of  God,  the  be- 
liever ^^ stands  in  the  evil  day;"  and,  having  done  all, 
he  still  stands.  This,  we  say,  is  not  only  a  marvel- 
lous, but  a  miraculous  thins^.  1 
2.  Nor  does  the  marvel  diminish  as  we  follow  God^s 
probationer  in  his  steady  progress  through  his  trial. 
A  tolerable  amount  of  natural  fortitude  may  sustain  a 
man's  spirit  during  a  severe  but  short  conflict.  The 
most  authentic  records  of  suffering,  however,  present 
us  with  few  specimens  either  of  peaceful  and  sustained 
acquiescence  in  the  prolongation  of  misfortune,  or  of  a 
corresponding  refinement  and  elevation  of  those  pecu- 
liar natural  feelings  which  are  so  prone  to  degenerate 
under  the  shades  of  adversity.  You  see  this,  however, 
in  the  saint  as  he  passes  through  the  conflicts  of  this 
life.  Sometimes  so  dreadful  is  the  tempest,  that  the 
frail  bark  of  his  mortality,  with  its  precious  cargo  of 
faith,  hope,  and  love,  shudders  from  end  to  end,  and 
remains  immovable  in  the  waters ;  but  the  stop  is 
only  for  an  instant,  and  onwards  still  it  pushes  to 
the  desired  haven.  Sometimes  that  bark  is  driven 
to  and  fro  during  many  a  lowering  day,  and  many 
a  starless  night ;  against  its  fragile  form  the  furious 
breakers  are  dashed,  and  rocks  and  sands  menace 
it  with  speedy  destruction  ?  but  it  is  all  one  to  that 


66  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

mysterious  little  vessel — onward  still  it  moves  I  It 
bears  a  charmed  existence !  It  is  insured  in  the 
covenant  books  of  Him  whom  winds  and  waves  obey. 
It  is  chartered  for  the  shores  of  Paradise,  and  never 
veers  nor  tacks  till  the  port  is  reached  at  which  the 
voyage  terminates,  and  the  debarking  begins.  In 
short,  every  saint  continues  to  believe,  to  love,  to 
work,  in  all  weathers,  and  to  make  spiritual  progress 
under  the  most  severe  .inflictions  of  his  Father's  rod. 
Yea,  the  more  copiously  the  afflictive  elements  are 
poured  into  his  cup,  the  more  is  added  to  his  heavenly 
mindedness,  and  the  sooner  is  he  ready  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  inheritance.  On  natural  or  rational  prin- 
ciples, this  is  an  unintelligible  result,  and  can  only  be 
accounted  for  by  referring  all  the  probationary  experi- 
ences to  the  rod,  and  all  his  support  to  the  staff',  of  the 
''  Lord,  our  shepherd." 
I  3.  But  the  greatest  wonder  of  all  in  the  trial  of  the 

saint  is,  their  peculiar  termination.  Whatever  be 
their  number,  nature,  or  length,  their  end  is  perfect 
purity  and  peace.  These  are  the  legitimate  and 
necessary  fruits  of  affliction.  "  For  our  light  afflic- 
tion," says  Paul,  ''  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh 
for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of 
glory."  What  astonishing  contrasts  are  there  in  this 
sublime  text,  which,  when  put  together,  greatly  aid 
us  to  comprehend  its  treasures  of  consolation.  First, 
there  is  affliction,  then  glory  set  over  against  it ;  next, 
there  is  "light  affliction,"  then  ''  an  exceeding  weight 
of  glory"  set  over  against  it ;  and  lastly,  there  is 
"  affliction  for  a  moment,"  then  an  eternal  glory  set 
over  against  it  I  Such  a  view  of  this  passage,  while 
it  opens  up  a  fountain  of  comfort  to  us  during  our 
affliction,  casts  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  magnificent 
winding  up  of  sanctified  probationship.     No  wonder, 


MOUNT   MORIAH.  67 

though  with  such  views,  the  apostle  exclaimed,  <'I 
reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  the  present  time  are  not 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be 
revealed  in  us !"  Only  contemplate  all  your  trials, 
brethren,  in  this  light,  and  you  will  feel  their  burdens 
to  be  lessened.  Who  would  not  suffer,  since  suffering 
is  one  of  the  buds  from  which  glory  is  to  burst  ?  Who 
would  not  weep,  since  a  tear  is  one  of  the  drops  fi*om 
which  shall  flow  and  be  expanded  one  of  the  rivers  of 
God's  pleasure  ?  Who  would  not  groan  beneath  this 
load  of  clay,  since  the  sigh  of  the  prisoner  is  to  become 
one  of  the  songs  in  the  symphony  of  heaven  ?  Who 
would  not  hunger  and  thirst,  since  these  appetites 
are  the  future  channels  through  which  the  life  which 
is  hid  with  Christ  in  God  is  to  be  consummately  en- 
loyed?  Who  would  not  sacrifice  his  dearest  treas- 
.ures, — his  very  Isaac, — since  the  blood  of  our  victims, 
and  the  incense  of  our  altars,  are  all  graciously  to 
issue  in  the  complete  reproduction  of  whatever  we 
have  given  to  God,  and  in  the  final  possession  of  all 
we  have  hoped  for  ?  Who  would  not  sicken  and  lan- 
guish during  days  and  years  of  weariness,  when  dis- 
ease is  to  be  the  medicine  by  which  the  precious  soul 
is  to  be  restored  to  spiritual  health  ?  And  who  would 
not  die,  when  life  and  immortality  are  to  be  reached 
through  death  and  the  grave  ? 

The  scene  invites  us  to  contemplate, 

III.  Faith  at  her  proper  work  between  God  in  his 

SOVEREIGNTY,   AND  MAN  ON  HIS  TRIAL. Thc    doctriuC  of 

divine  sovereignty  is,  in  many  views,  an  appalling  one, 
especially  to  guilty  men;  and  this  mysterious  mode 
of  perfecting  pardoned  sinners,  by  placing  them  in  a 
state  of  afflictive  probation,  is,  to  the  eye  of  nature, 
and  in  the  judgment  of  the  godless,  the  very  opposite 
of  wisdom,  and  the  counterpart  of  mercy.     A  correct 


68  MOUNT    MORIAH. 

estimate  of  both,  however,  is  quite  attainable,  and  has 
been  attained.  Nor  can  human  reason  take  any  credit 
to  itself  in  the  attainment.  No  mere  man  can  com- 
fortably to  himself,  or  profitably  to  others,  explain  the 
solemnizing  attribute  of  the  Deity  on  the  one  hand,  nor 
the  sufferings  of  saints  on  the  other.  There  is  but  one 
principle  upon  which  these  hidden  things  can  be,  to 
some  extent,  disclosed  ;  that  is,  the  principle  of  faith. 
Now  this  faith  is  begotten  by  no  uninspired  arguments, 
and  lives  not  on  the  unaided  exertions  of  mere  intellect. 
It  is  a  divine  principle  ;  that  is,  it  came  from  God,  and 
it  lives  in  God,  even  though  it  has  its  being  and  its 
motions  on  the  earth.  Consequently,  operating  in  any 
human  mind,  it  necessarily  deposits  there  the  seeds  of 
immortal  truth,  so  that  it  is  not  so  much  reason,  as  it 
is  revelation,  that  it  has  to  do  with.  Dwelling  in  the 
human  heart,  it  diffuses  such  warmth  of  love  and 
trust,  as  that  every  sentiment  and  desire  become  im- 
bued with  its  spirit,  fascinated  by  its  promises,  and 
completely  subject  to  its  influence.  The  result  of  all 
this  is,  that  faith,  occupying  a  kind  of  middle  position 
between  heaven  and  earth,  readily  justifies  all  the 
ways  of  God  to  man,  and  reconciles  man  to  the  provi- 
dence and  to  the  grace  of  God.  Mysteries,  coming  to 
the  saint,  first  through  his  faith  in  the  divine  goodness 
and  wisdom,  are  received  with  humility,  and  neither 
startle  nor  disaftect  his  mind ;  while  trials,  commis- 
sioned from  above,  and  first  of  all  received  by  faith, 
are  endured  with  a  calmness  and  fortitude,  which  it 
were  impossible  to  account  for  upon  natural  causes. 
This  was  the  great  mediating  principle  by  which 
Abraham  was  so  intimately  connected  with  Jehovah, 
that,  instantly  on  the  divine  will  being  expressed,  he 
hoped  against  hope,  believed  against  belief,  combated 
natural  affection,  and  reached  the  bright  eminence  of 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  69 

trust  in  the  faithfulness  of  God,  even  when  that  faith- 
fulness was  imperilled  by  the  descending  knife.  "  By- 
faith  Abraham,  when  he  was  called  to  go  out  into  a 
place  which  he  should  after  receive  for  an  inheritance, 
obeyed;  and  he  went  out,  not  knowing  whither  he 
went.  By  faith  he  sojourned  in  the  land  of  promise, 
as  in  a  strange  country.  By  faith,  when  he  was  tried, 
he  offered  up  Isaac ;  and  he  that  had  received  the 
promises  offered  up  his  only-begotten  son,  accounting 
that  God  was  able  to  raise  him  up,  even  from  the 
dead ;  from  whence  also  he  received  him  in  a  figure." 
How  few  there  be  amonsfst  us  that  have  the  faith 
of  Abraham !  It  cannot  be  otherwise  till  more  holy 
and  earnest  effort  is  made  to  increase  our  faith  ;  till 
indeed  we  are  persuaded  that  it  is  our  duty  to  aim  at 
"  full  assurance."  We  are  verily  to  blame  in  this 
matter  ;  inasmuch  as,  if  we  were  so  disposed,  the  means 
are  within  our  reach  for  greatly  enlarging  this  Christian 
grace.  ''  Faith  is  the  gift  of  God."  He  is  the  ''  Father 
of  lights,"  and  consequently  of  faith,  as  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  of  them  all.  To  him,  therefore,  in  ear- 
nest prayer  we  must  apply,  not  only  for  the  original 
gift,  but  for  its  steady  and  cumulative  influences.  The 
prayerless  are  they  that  are  faithless :  and  the  prayer- 
ful only  are  the  believing,  who  become  "  the  lights  of 
the  world."  This  honor  have  all  the  saints,  and  they 
are  solely  indebted  for  it  to  the  grace  of  God.  If, 
then,  we  sincerely  desire  to  be  strong  ia  faith,  we  must 
make  very  diligent  use  of  all  the  means  of  grace. 
Specially  must  the  word  of  God  be  studied ;  not  for- 
mally read  merely,  but  most  seriously  and  persever- 
ingly  studied.  The  character  of  God,  and  the  worth 
and  work  of  the  Saviour,  as  therein  described,  must 
become  regular  subjects  of  meditation,  together  with 
the  divine  modes  of  dealing  with  the  saints  in  past 


w 


MOUNT    MORIAH. 


generations.  In  addition  to  this,  we  must  be  prepared 
to  offer  uncompromising  resistance  to  the  temptations 
of  the  world,  the  devil,  and  the  flesh.  No  longer 
"  lovers  of  pleasure,"  the  aspirants  after  great  faith 
must  become  "  lovers  of  God,"  in  an  eminent  degree. 
The  whole  life,  in  short,  must  be  surrendered  to  the 
activities  of  Christianity.  We  must  not  consider  our- 
selves as  our  own,  but  as  "bought  with  a  price;" 
even  with  the  precious  blood  of  Christ ;  and  bought  for 
the  glory  of  his  name,  and  the  advancement  of  his 
cause  on  earth.  Less  than  this  may  be,  and  alas ! 
too  generally  is  given  ;  but  less  than  this  cannot  achieve 
the  mighty  works  of  patriarchal  faith. 

If,  then.  Christians  would  have  comfort  in  God ;  if 
they  would  see  through  the  clouds  and  darkness  that 
go  before  him,  into  the  very  sirdles  of  his  face  ;  if  they 
would  unravel  all  mysteries  to  act  thereon  as  if  they 
comprehended  them ;  if  they  would  have  the  flesh, 
with  its  affections  and  lusts,  crucified ;  if  they  would 
get  complete  control  of  those  deeply-seated  principles, 
and  those  bounding  affections  of  their  nature  which 
are  so  apt  to  rebel  against  the  stern  requirements  of 
sovereign  law,  and  the  opening  of  the  vials  of  Jehovah's 
anger  ;  if  they  would  be  put  in  possession  of  the  secret 
for  finding  God  out  in  the  word,  in  the  cross,  and  in 
the  providence,  and  for  comfortably  interpreting  all  his 
procedure  with  them  from  birth  to  death  ;  and  if  they 
would  learn  the  way  to  entomb  self  in  oblivion,  to  cast 
the  world  behind  their  back,  to  carry  their  most  cher- 
ished possessions,  even  to  bind  their  very  Isaacs  to  the 
altars  of  God,  there  to  shed  their  blood  if  commanded ; 
if  they  would  do  these  mighty  works,  and  works  kin- 
dred to  these,  they  must  have  faith  towards  God ; 
they  must  "  endure  as  seeing  God,  who  is  invisible ;" 


MOUNT    MORIAH.  71 

they  must  become  the  children  of  faithful  Abraham ; 
they  must  trust  God  as  much  in  the  dark  as  in  the 
light,  in  the  breach  as  in  the  fulfilment  of  promises,  in 
the  chambers  of  affliction  as  in  the  house  of  mirth,  in 
poverty  as  in  plenty,  in  death  as  in  life. 


MOUNT    HOREB 


AND 


THE    CALL    OF    MOSES 


God  promised  to  Abraham,  that  to  him  and  to  his 
seed  would  be  given  the  land  of  Canaan.  The  time, 
however,  was  not  specified ;  consequently  the  faith  of 
the  Hebrews  was  kept  in  constant  exercise.  They 
"  waited  upon  the  Lord,"  in  anticipation  of  the  day 
when  he  would  ride  forth  in  "  truth  and  faithfulness." 
During  their  captivity  in  Egypt,  it  does  not  very 
clearly  appear  that  they  thought  much  about  the 
Abrahamic  covenant.  Like  all  the  victims  of  slavery, 
their  spirits  were  crushed  under  oppression,  while 
their  despair  of  immediate  emancipation  gradually 
reconciled  them  to  their  captivity.  We  are  not  war- 
ranted to  conclude,  however,  that  there  were  none 
amongst  them  who  confidently  expected  an  exodus 
from  it.  From  the  day  that  the  Chaldean  pilgrim 
departed  from  Ur,  to  the  reign  of  that  monarch  who 
"  knew  not  Joseph,"  God  never  left  himself  without  a 
witness  among  the  descendants  of  the  patriarch.  The 
dying  words  of  Joseph  were  never,  even  throughout 
that  age  of  gloomy  darkness  which  followed  his  de- 
cease, altogether  forgotten :  '^  Arid  Joseph  said  unto 
his  brethren,  I  die  ;   and  God  will  surely  visit  you, 


MOUNT    HOREB.  73 

and  bring  you  out  of  this  land  unto  the  land  which 
he  sware  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac,  and  to  Jacob."  To 
this  testimony  some  would  cling  with  believing  tena- 
city ;  and  though  generations  passed  away,  and  their 
external  condition  waxed  more  and  more  miserable, 
the  hope  would  not  be  destroyed  that  in  God's  time  it 
would  be  verified.  And  so  it  was.  As  four  hundred 
years  elapsed  from  the  time  of  Noah  to  the  call  of 
Abraham,  so  an  equal  number  passed  away  from  the 
days  of  Abraham  to  the  call  of  Moses.  "  Beloved,  be 
not  ignorant  of  this  one  thing,  that  one  day  is  with 
the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years 
as  one  day."  "When  these  years  had  fled,  He  who 
had  spoken  face  to  face  with  the  father  of  the  faithful, 
but  who,  during  this  long  interval,  had  neither  broken 
silence  nor  come  out  of  his  secret  place  of  thunder, 
again  appeared.  His  presence  was  vouchsafed  to  one 
of  ''  the  Hebrew  children,"  in  a  region  of  the  world  far 
from  their  house  of  bondage,  denoted  by  the  inspired 
historian  as  "the  mountain  of  God,  even  Horeb."* 
Before  describing  the  scene,  let  us  ascertain  the  topo- 
graphy of  the  mountain. 


PART    I. 

THE     MOUNTAIN    OF    GOD. 

IIOREB ARABIA     PETREA SIXAIC     GROUP JEBAL     KATRINE, 

AND  JEBAL  MUSA,  THE  TWO  PEAKS  OP  ONE  MOUNTAIN. 

Immediately  after  crossing  the  Red  Sea,  at  the 
place  where  it  is  almost  certain  the  Israelites  made 

*  Exodus  iii.  1, 

4 


74  MOUNT  HOREB. 

the  miraculous  passage,  the  traveller  enters  the  coun- 
try called  Arabia.  Arabia  presents  the  form  of  a  vast 
peninsula,  connected  with  the  south-western  extremity 
of  Asia  by  an  isthmus  of  sandy  deserts,  the  breadth  of 
which  has  been  estimated  at  eight  hundred  English 
miles.  It  has  long  been  "famous  for  its  poisonous 
blasts,  odoriferous  plants  of  frankincense,  myrrh,  cas- 
sia, and  cinnamon,  its  coffee  shrubs,  its  manna,  and  its 
camels  and  horses."  But  our  visit  to  it  at  present  is 
occasioned  by  some  more  powerful  attraction  than  its 
interesting  natural  history.  By  Ptolemy,  one  of  the 
kings  of  Egypt,  who  flourished  a  few  centuries  before 
the  coming  of  our  Saviour,  Arabia  was  divided  into 
three  parts  :  Arabia  Felix,  Arabia  Deserta,  and  Arabia 
Petrea.  It  was  into  this  third  division  of  the  country, 
Arabia  Petrea,  so  called  from  Petra,  the  ancient  capi- 
tal of  the  Nabotheans,  that  the  Israelites  entered, 
when  they  crossed  the  Red  Sea  and  traversed  the  wil- 
derness, which  is  bounded  on  the  west  by  its  waters. 
Within  three  days  they  reached  the  fountain  called 
Mar  ah,  where  the  waters  were  bitter  ;  and  from  Marah 
they  journeyed  till  they  came  to  ''  Horeb."  The  coun- 
try in  that  region  seems  to  be  as  unproductive  and 
wild  now  as  it  was  then.  A  recent  traveller  tells  us 
"  that  there  is  no  part  of  the  world  where  the  face  of 
nature,  and  the  natural  landmarks,  have  remained  so 
totally  unchanged.  In  the  days  of  Moses,  as  now,  it 
was  a  barren,  mountainous  region ;  bare  of  verdure, 
and  destitute  of  streams  of  living  water.  So  that  the 
Almighty  was  obliged  to  sustain  his  people  with  man- 
na from  heaven,  and  water  from  the  rocks." 

Leaving  Marah,  and  still  keeping  to  the  south-east, 
the  traveller  in  a  few  days  gets  into  a  still  more  moun- 
tainous and  dreary  region,  where  there  are  very  few 
inhabitants,  and  these  almost  entirely  composed  of  in- 


MOUNT    HOREB.  75 

dependent  Bedouins,  or  wandering  Arabs.  The  moun- 
tains here  form  the  high  lands  in  the  interior  of  Arabia. 
Petrea ;  and  the  north-western  portion  has  been  desig- 
nated by  some,  the  region  of  Horeb ;  by  others,  the 
Sinaic  group,  because  Mount  Sinai  stands  in  the  cen- 
tre. This  range  of  mountains  is  of  considerable  extent, 
and  fills  up  a  large  space  in  that  peninsula  which  pro- 
jects into  the  Red  Sea,  having  the  gulf  of  Suez  on  its 
west,  and  the  gulf  of  Akaba  on  its  east.  The  district 
by  which  Sinai  is  approached  from  the  north,  is  called 
in  scripture  "  the  wilderness  of  sin ;"  and  the  valley 
immediately  at  the  base  of  Sinai,  where  the  children 
of  Israel  were  assembled  at  the  promulgation  of  the 
law,  is  called  the  Desert  of  Sinai.  When  nearing 
this  central  elevation  in  the  high  land  of  the  peninsula, 
the  traveller  sees  before  him  this  valley,  bounded  by 
high  rocky  cliffs ;  and  immediately  in  front,  though 
still  more  than  a  day's  journey  distant,  stands  the 
sacred  mountain  itself,  directly  across  the  road,  and, 
as  has  Ipeen  said,  "  looking  like  the  end  of  the  world." 
After  passing  through  this  valley,  shut  in  on  either 
hand  by  lofty  and  crumbling  mountains,  on  whose 
sides,  notwithstanding,  are  produced  oranges,  dates, 
and  figs,  in  great  abundance,  the  traveller  suddenly 
reaches  a  plain  table  of  ground,  from  which  the 
ascent  to  the  most  remarkable  mountain  among  the 
Sinaic  range,  (three  miles  in  length,)  may  be  said  to 
commence. 

It  is  proper,  however,  to  notice,  that  the  "  Horeb" 
of  scripture,  and  the  ''  Sinai,"  to  be  afterwards  com- 
mented on,  do  not  form  two  distinct  mountains,  though 
different  names  are  used  when  referring  to  them. 
There  appears  to  be  a  sense  in  which  Horeb  is  Sinai, 
and  Sinai  is  Horeb.  Much  difference  of  opinion  exists 
among  intelligent  travellers  upon  this  subject.     With- 


76  MOUNT    HOREB. 

out  occupying  time  by  more  particular  references  to 
their  various  conjectures,  we  shall  simply  state,  what, 
upon  the  whole,  appears  to  be  the  most  correct  view 
of  the  subject.  In  the  very  centre,  then,  of  the  cluster, 
called  indiscriminately  Horeb  or  Sinai,  there  is  one 
stupendous  mountain,  which,  like  Ararat,  is  divided 
into  two  parts,  or  two  immense  cones,  "  towering,  like 
giant  twin-brothers,"  above  the  rest.  The  one  is 
called  Jebal  Katrine,  and  the  other  Jebal  Musa.  The 
highest  one  is  called  "  Jebal  Katrine,"  or  the  "  Moun- 
tain of  Catherine,"  because  of  the  convent  of  St. 
Catherine's  which  was  built  upon  it,  in  the  fourth  cen- 
tury, by  Helena,  the  mother  of  Constantine,  to  com- 
memorate the  conversion  to  Christianity  of  a  daughter 
of  one  of  the  kings  of  Alexandria,  whose  name  was 
Catherine.  The  legend  says  that  her  father,  in  conse- 
quence of  her  conversion,  put  her  to  death ;  and  that 
the  angels  brought  her  body  and  interred  it  on  the 
summit.  This  appears  to  be  the  division  of  the  moun- 
tain called  in  scripture  Horeb ;  and  the  district  sur- 
rounding it  is  designated  ''  the  back  side  of  the  desert," 
where  Moses  was  feeding  the  flock  of  Jethro.  A  chapel 
is  now  erected  over  the  spot  where  that  marvellous 
spectacle  was  seen ;  and  as  travellers  enter  the  pre- 
cincts, they  are  addressed  by  the  attending  monk  in 
these  words  :  "  Put  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet,  for  the 
ground  whereon  thou  treadestis  holy  ground."  "  The 
place,"  says  one,  "  is  now  bedizened  with  Grecian 
ornaments.  The  rude  simplicity  of  nature  which  be- 
held the  interview  between  God  and  his  servant  is 
utterly  gone  ;  and  the  burning  bush  is  the  last  thing 
one  would  think  of  on  the  spot  where  it  grew." 

The  other  division,  or  second  peak,  is  at  present 
named  "  Jebal  Musa"  by  the  Arabs,  that  is,  the 
"Mountain   of  Moses;"  so  called  because    from  its 


MOUNT    HOREB.  77 

summit  the  law  was  promulgated,  and  there  he  re- 
ceived from  God  the  two  tables  of  stone  on  which  that 
law  was  inscribed.  To  this  peak,  consequently,  the 
name  of  Sinai  has  been  given.  I  have  abeady  noticed 
that  the  whole  group  of  mountains  in  that  peninsula 
are  by  some  comprehended  under  the  general  designa- 
tion of  the  ''  Mountains  of  Sinai ;"  also,  that  in  scrip- 
ture, Horeb  is  used  as  a  general  and  descriptive  title 
of  this  interesting  region  of  hill  and  valley.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  it  is  likely  that  the  general  name  either  of 
Sinai  or  Horeb  took  a  particular  application  when  any 
one  of  the  group  was  distinguished,  as  these  peaks  or 
cones  were,  by  the  manifestations  of  Deity.  It  ap- 
pears, then,  that  in  considering  the  scripture  references 
to  this  locality,  we  must  look  for  this  place  where  God 
first  met  with  Moses  in  the  larger  division  of  the  centre 
mountain  of  the  Sinaic  group,  called  Jebal  Katrine ; 
and  we  must  look  for  the  mountain  whereon  the  law 
was  given  in  the  lesser  eminence  beside  it,  called  Jebal 
Musa,  or  the  Mountain  of  Moses.  Horeb,  then,  is 
Jebal  Katrine,  and  Sinai  is  Jebal  Musa. 

Travellers  describe  this  douhle-peaked  mountain  aS 
presenting  a  grand  and  imposing  spectacle.  Horeb 
rises  almost  perpendicularly  from  the  plain.  It  is  of 
deep  red  granite,  and  is  about  four  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Sinai  is  more  easy  of  access,  and 
is  about  three  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
It  terminates  at  the  top  in  white  granite,  to  which 
Milton  is  thought  to  allude  when  he  sings  of  the  "  gray 
topped  Sinai."  Its  summit  is  only  about  sixty  feet 
square  in  extent,  which  is  partly  occupied  by  a  chapel 
belonging  tfl  the  convent  at  the  foot  of  the  mount. 
Dr.  Wilson  was  shown,  a  little  below  this  chapel,  a 
mark  in  the  granite,  said  to  be  an  impression  of  the 
foot  of  the  camel  of  Mahomet  when  he  ascended  this 


78  MOUNT    HOREB. 

height ;  and  also  a  small  hollow  of  the  rock  into  which 
the  monks  imagine  that  Moses  retired,  when  the  glory 
of  God  was  revealed  before  him. 

To  ''  the  terrific  solitude  and  bleak  majesty"  of  this 
dreary  region,  it  pleased  God  to  come  down  that  he 
might  again  converse  with  man.  The  place  selected 
for  the  interview  might  have  been  somewhere  about 
the  base,  or  on  the  side  of  that  division  of  Sinai  called 
Horeb,  which  derives  additional  force  from  the  fact 
that  there  is  pasturage  for  flocks  there,  whereas  there 
is  little  or  no  verdure  on  the  sides  of  the  neighboring 
peak,  the  Mount  of  Moses.  Our  attention  is  now  to 
be  turned  to  the  distinguished  individual  who  was,  at 
this  time  and  in  this  place,  solemnly  set  apart  by  Je- 
hovah to  be  the  Hberator  of  his  people  Israel. 


PART   II. 

PORTRAIT   OF   MOSES. 

HIS     EARLY     HISTORY FAMILY     SCENES rROVIDENCE TRUST 

IN    GOD FLIGHT    FROM    EGYPT ARRIVAL    IN    HOREB. 

Moses  was  born  in  Egypt.  His  parents  were  He- 
brews. Before  his  birth  the  king  of  Egypt  had  become 
jealous  of  the  descendants  of  Jacob.  They  were  rap- 
idly increasing,  and  he  determined  to  diminish  both 
their  numbers  and  influence.  Hence,  after  the  failure 
of  other  expedients,  he  commanded  that  every  Hebrew 
male  infant  should  be  cast  into  the  river.  This  last 
decree  was  in  operation  at  the  birth  of  Moses.  His 
parents  were  in  perplexity  as  to  what  they  should  do 


MOUNT    HOREB.  79 

with  the  child.  He  was  an  unusually  beautiful  one. 
The  martyr  Stephen  tells  us  he  was  "  divinely  fair." 
At  the  end  of  three  months,  during  which  she  had  hid 
her  child,  his  mother  was  necessitated  to  consign  him 
to  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  and  the  jaws  of  the  croco- 
diles, with  which  that  river  abounds.  Guided,  how- 
ever, by  Providence,  and,  we  doubt  not,  in  the  hope 
that  something  might  occur  to  preserve  her  child, 
Jochebed  "  took  one  of  the  common  baskets  made  from 
the  papyrus,  and  strengthened  it  and  made  it  imper- 
vious to  the  water,  by  daubing  it  on  the  outside  with 
bitumen,  and  in  the  inside  with  the  sHme  of  the  river." 
In  this  strange  bed  she  then  cradled  her  infant.  But, 
surely,  ere  this  ark  and  its  precious  treasure  are  car- 
ried away,  never  to  return,  the  family  would  be  assem- 
bled, and  a  last  look  would  be  taken.  The  scene  must 
have  been  truly  melting.  Behold  that  manly  figure 
bending  over  the  little  ark !  He  embraces  the  boy, 
and  then  raising  his  heart  to  heaven,  commits  him  to 
the  God  of  Israel.  That  is  Amram,  the  father ;  he 
dashes  the  tear  from  his  cheek,  and  retires  under  a 
severe  conflict  of  nature.  And  what  children  are 
these  who  watch  the  whole  proceedings  with  intense 
but  silent  wonder?  They,  too,  gaze  as  for  the  last 
time  on  the  child,  who,  it  may  be,  smiles  on  recogniz- 
ing their  well-known  looks ;  for  these  are  Aaron  and 
Miriam,  the  brother  and  sister  of  Moses,  who  were 
afterwards  associated  with  him  in  the  wondrous  works 
that  were  done  in  this  same  land  of  Ham,  and  in  the 
terrible  things  that  were  done  in  the  Red  Sea, 

And  now  this  scene  of  agony  is  over.  The  lid  is 
shut,  and  Jochebed  takes  up  the  ark.  O,  never,  never, 
from  beneath  the  homely  roof  tree,  did  mother  carry 
such  a  burden  as  this,  and  with  such  a  bursting  heart 
as  hers  !     But  she  must  needs  go  forth  to  the  Nile ; 


80  MOUNT    HOREB. 

and  to  the  Nile  she  came,  and  there,  among  the  flags 
that  grew  upon  the  river's  brink,  she  laid  her  burden 
down.  Having  done  so,  she  returned  to  her  home. 
But  mark,  there  must  have  been  faith  in  God  at  work 
the  meanwhile  in  her  family,  for  Miriam,  her  daugh- 
ter, now  about  nine  or  ten  years  of  age,  remains  at 
some  distance  from  the  spot  "  to  wit  what  would  be 
done  to  him."  How  astonishing  the  Providence  of 
God  !  Behold,  in  a  short  time — ^had  it  been  protracted 
the  child  might  have  been  carried  down  the  stream,  or 
devoured  by  the  crocodiles — some  females  approach 
the  very  spot.  One  of  them  is  a  princess,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Pharaoh.  Had  it  been  a  woman  of  common 
rank  she  would  not  have  dared  to  do  what  the  royal 
Thermutis  did.  She  espies  the  ark  ;  commands  it  to 
be  brought,  and  opened  before  her.  She  sees  a  beau- 
tiful infant,  and  that  infant  weeping.  How  providen- 
tial these  tears !  they  melt  her  heart.  She  immedi- 
ately resolves  to  adopt  the  child.  But  who  shall  be 
his  nurse  ?  How  exceedingly  touching  the  scriptural 
narrative  here !  Miriam,  narrowly  watching  the 
whole  procedure,  and  though  little  more  than  a  child 
herself,  makes  bold  to  approach.  How  natural !  it 
was  her  own  sweet  infant  brother ;  she  knew  how  sad 
her  mother  was  at  parting  with  him,  and  she  must 
needs  hear  and  see  what  passes.  She  instantly  de- 
tects pity  at  work  in  the  royal  bosom,  quickly  antici- 
pates her  benevolent  intention,  and  perhaps,  by  her 
seasonable  question,  gives  decision  to  the  already 
nearly  formed  purpose  of  that  lady's  heart,  "  Shall  I 
go  and  call  to  thee  a  nurse  of  the  Hebrew  women, 
that  she  may  nurse  the  child  for  thee  ?"  With  what 
alacrity  would  Miriam  execute  her  commission !  She 
knew  where  to  find  a  nurse ;  and,  keeping  her  secret 
to  herself,  "  she  went  and  called  the  child's  mother." 


MOUNT    HOREB.  81 

Jochebed  came  quickly ;  was  hired  to  nurse  her  own 
infant,  and  watched  over  him  for  three  years,  after 
which  she  carried  him  to  the  palace,  and  resigned  him 
into  the  hands  of  the  princess,  and  Moses  became  her 
son. 

Who  can  meditate  on  this  scene  without  being  con- 
vinced that  there  is  a  Providence  that  over-rules  and 
controls  all  that  comes  to  pass ;  and  not  only  a  gen- 
eral, but  a  special  Providence,  condescending  to  the 
most  minute,  and,  as  we  may  think,  trifling  matters, 
as  well  as  comprehensive  of  the  mightiest  and  most 
august  events  that  shake  the  nations  to  their  centre  ; 
a  Providence  that  watches  over  the  revolutions  of 
worlds,  and  notices  the  fall  of  a  sparrow  !  To  believe 
that  all  this  has  happened  to  the  child  of  Amram  and 
Jochebed,  especially  when  his  future  history  is  con- 
sidered, was  merely  chance  work,  is  a  much  more 
violent  shock  to  reason,  than  to  trace  it  to  such  a 
source.  It  must  indeed  be  so,  not  only  in  this,  but 
in  every  case.  God  is  everywhere,  and  sees  all  that 
goes  on.  He  is  infinitely  wise,  and  knows  all  that  is 
to  occur.  He  is  infinitely  good,  and  orders  all  for  the 
general  good  of  his  creatures ;  and  he  is  infinitely 
powerful,  and  uses  bis  power  to  promote  their  happi- 
ness. Their  disordering  his  wise  arrangements  by 
sin,  is  the  sole  cause  of  their  miseries ;  but  the  events 
that  counteract  evils  in  their  lot  are  entirely  under  his 
own  management.  All  this  must  be  especially  true 
of  his  "  peculiar  people."  Their  entire  history  is  one 
of  special,  or,  as  it  may  be  termed,  of  gracious  Provi- 
dence. To  this  they  are  indebted  for  their  birth  in  a 
land  of  gospel  light,  their  Christian  parentage,  their 
religious  nurture;  and  all  the  events  in  their  lot, 
whether  joyous  or  grievous,  that  work  together  for  their 
good,  flow  from  this.     It  is  God  who  preserves  them 


82  MOUNT    HOREB. 

alive  when  disease  threatens  to  destroy  them ;  who 
appoints  them  wealth,  or  confines  them  to  poverty,  as 
either  the  one  or  the  other  estate  is  to  bear  most  use- 
fully on  their  wellbeing  ;  and  it  is  God  who  assigns 
to  them  a  larger  or  smaller  cup  of  affliction,  accord- 
ing to  what  he  knows  is  to  be  their  peculiar  spiritual 
needs.  Consequently,  we  never  murmur  over  the 
trials  and  vicissitudes  of  life  without  impugning  his 
goodness,  and  thereby  incurring  his  displeasure.  Con- 
sider Jochebed,  the  wife  of  Amram  and  the  mother 
of  Moses  !  She  believed  in  this  consolatory  doctrine, 
and  trusted  that  her  child,  when  laid  in  the  waters 
of  the  Nile,  was  as  certainly  under  His  care  as  when 
sleeping  in  her  own  bosom.  How  many  parental 
pangs  might  be  spared  us,  if,  when  thus  tried  in  the 
early  decease  of  our  own  children,  we  would  imitate 
this  pious  woman  of  the  house  of  Levi !  She  did  not 
know,  when  she  committed  her  child  to  the  river,  that 
he  was  so  soon  to  be  restored  to  her,  and  yet  she  went 
through  the  trial,  bowing  her  head  to  the  mysterious 
wUl  of  her  God  !  Such  resignation  is  also  incumbent 
on  us  when  death  blanches  the  fair  cheeks  of  our  in- 
fants, or  prostrates  now  a  hopeful  son,  and  now  a  lovely 
daughter.  When  we  lay  their  dead  bodies  in  the  cof- 
fin, and  when  the  grave  at  last  hides  them  from  our 
view,  let  us  remember  that  there  is  a  Providence  in  it 
all,  and  that  a  Providence  watches  over  it  all.  Our 
Isaac  will  be  given  back  from  the  altar,  our  Moses 
will  be  raised  from  the  grave  ;  for  neither  our  young 
men  nor  our  maidens  are  dead — they  only  sleep  ;  and 
He  who  sets  a  watch  over  their  precious  dust  will 
awaken  them  in  the  morning,  and  restore  them  to  us, 
radiant  in  the  beauties  of  holiness,  and  buoyant  with 
immortal  youth ! 

Within  the  palace  of  the  Pharaohs,  Moses  lived  till 


MOUNT    HOREB.  83 

he  was  forty  years  of  age.  He  was,  though  an  He- 
brew, treated  as  one  of  the  royal  family.  An  eastern 
princess,  in  these  times,  such  as  Thermutis  who  drew 
him  from  the  water,  had  extraordinary  influence ;  her 
will  was  law  in  the  house  of  her  father.  We  can 
easily  understand,  then,  how  the  adopted  son  of  Pha- 
raoh should  receive  the  full  advantages  of  his  high 
rank.  The  scriptures  tell  us  expressly  regarding  his 
splendid  education  and  wonderful  intellectual  attain- 
ments ;  "  he  was  learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the 
Egyptians,  and  was  mighty  in  words  and  in  deeds." 
Jewish  literature,  too,  is  full  of  glowing  descriptions 
of  his  life  at  the  court  of  Pharaoh.  He  is  represented 
as  having  been  a  beautiful  poet,  an  accomplished  his- 
torian, musician,  and  astronomer.  The  Pentateuch, 
the  book  of  Job,  and  the  ninetieth  psalm,  all  of  which 
are  understood  to  be  his  compositions,  corroborate  these 
views. 

How  true  is  it,  when  we  think  of  this  initiatory 
process,  that  God  ^'  makes  the  wrath  of  men  to  praise 
him,"  and  that  '^  the  king's  heart  is  in  the  hand  of  the 
Lord !"  Pharaoh  would  nip  in  the  bud  this  rising  hope 
of  the  house  of  Israel ;  when,  lo !  his  own  daughter 
is  employed  to  save  the  future  prophet  and  give  him 
nourishment  within  the  walls  of  his  palace  !  Pharaoh 
would  keep  Israel  in  bondage ;  when,  lo !  to  his  own 
wise  men,  the  heads  of  Egyptian  literature,  and  to  his 
most  experienced  warriors  and  statesmen,  is  this  boy 
assigned,  that  he  might  be  fully  accomplished  in  the 
learning  and  philosophy  of  that  day,  as  also  in  the  arts 
of  war,  and  the  science  of  government. 

But  God  will  take  no  more  from  the  wicked  than 
what  serves  his  purpose.  When  Moses  had  lived 
long  enough  in  Egypt  to  acquire  all  this  knowledge, 
and  to  become  acquainted  with  the  history  and  pros- 


84  MOUNT    IIOREB. 

pects  of  his  own  people,  he  was  sent  to  a  school  of  a 
very  different  charaeter,  and  to  get  wisdom  and  expe- 
rience which  neither  the  court  nor  the  astrologers  of 
Pharaoh  could  impart.  It  is  evident  from  the  inspired 
narrative  that,  though  living  amid  the  splendors  and 
pleasures  of  a  palace,  he  could  not  forget  the  afflictions 
of  the  people  of  God.  He  knew  himself  to  be  a  He- 
brew, and  that  they  were  his  brethren.  This  is  a  no- 
ble feature  in  the  character  of  this  illustrious  man. 
Greatly  tempted  to  regard  them  as  a  nation  of  slaves, 
and  having  at  his  command  the  sources  of  earthly 
gratification,  yet  he  could  not  brook  the  idea  of  his 
brethren's  oppression,  while  he  revelled  in  plenty  within 
the  citadel  of  their  oppressors.  It  has  been  thought 
that  the  death  of  Pharaoh  about  this  period  determined 
him  in  his  course.  His  benefactress,  it  is  understood, 
ascended  the  throne  ;  in  which  position  she  could  no 
longer  continue  to  recognize  him  as  a  Hebrew,  but 
desired  that  he  should  submit  to  a  formal  act  of  natu- 
ralization and  adoption,  so  as  to  constitute  him  legally 
an  Egyptian.  This  was  the  critical  moment ;  and  on 
his  decision  depended  the  highest  destinies.  Ijove  to 
the  queen,  who  had  been  as  a  mother  to  him,  and  to 
whose  patronage  he  was  so  much  indebted,  would  pow- 
erfully advocate  her  claims,  and  as  j^ainfuUy  agitate 
his  mind  in  resisting  them.  Let  us  imagine  him  re- 
tiring from  the  royal  presence  to  meditate  and  pray. 
It  might  be  that,  amid  troubled  thoughts,  and  the  bal- 
ancing of  conflicting  interests,  he  found  himself  on  one 
of  the  stately  turrets  of  the  palace.  Perhaps  it  was 
evening,  and  the  silver  light  of  the  moon  beautified 
the  scene.  Lo,  how  rpiickly  his  eye  selects  and  is 
fixed  on  one  spot  in  that  landscape !  It  rests  not  upon 
the  city,  whose  busy  hum  dies  away  as  man  reposes 
after  toil  ;  nor  upon  the  fertile  fields  that  stretch  out 


MOUNT    IIOREB.  85 

far  and  wide  on  every  hand,  waving  with  corn  ;  nor 
even  upon  Goshen,  from  whence  his  countrymen  had 
been  dragged  to  the  brick  kilns  of  Pharaoh.  That 
eye  rests  upon  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  and  upon  the 
very  spot  from  which  he  had  been  rescued  in  his  in- 
fancy, and  which  had  been  ever  associated  in  his  mind 
with  the  mysterious  purposes  of  God  with  regard  to 
himself  Thus  musing,  he  revolves  the  stories  of  his 
ancestors,  as  he  had  heard  them  from  the  lips  of  Jo- 
chebed  during  these  three  precious  years  of  childhood 
which  he  had  passed  under  her  care.  Then  came 
thoughts  about  the  present  sufferings  of  these  de- 
scendants of  the  patriarchs,  and  also  of  the  covenants' 
and  promises  of  God  with  regard  to  their  future  great- 
ness. His  purpose  is  at  once  formed.  He  returns 
to  Thermutis,  and,  with  singular  self-denial,  grace- 
fully but  firmly  declines  the  honors  she  intended  for 
him.  How  beautifully  is  this  expressed  by  an  apostle  ! 
"  By  faith  Moses,  when  he  was  come  to  years,  refused 
to  be  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter,  choosing 
rather  to  suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of  God,  than 
to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season,  esteeming 
the  reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches  than  the  treasures 
of  Egypt." 

The  spirit  of  the  future  deliverer  of  Israel  now 
worked  strongly  within  the  bosom  of  Moses.  He  soon 
had  an  opportunity  of  manifesting  his  patriotic  prefer- 
ences. In  one  of  these  days,  when  mingling  with  his 
brethren,  and  looking  upon  their  burdens,  he  saw  an 
Egyptian  smite  an  Hebrew.  He  instantly  slew  the 
Egyptian,  and  buried  him  in  the  sand.  Next  day  he 
saw  two  Hebrews  quarrelling.  He  interfered  to  make 
peace  between  them,  not  doubting  but  that,  by  this 
time,  even  they  would  be  convinced  that  in  him  was  the 
hope  of  their  people.     "  He  supposed,"  says  Stephen, 


80  MOUNT    HOREB. 

''  that  his  brethren  would  have  understood  how  that 
God  would  by  his  hand  deliver  them  ;  but  they  under- 
stood not."  One  of  them  said,  "  Who  made  thee  a 
prince  and  a  judge  over  us  ?  Intendest  thou  to  kill 
me,  as  thou  killedst  the  Egyptian  ?"  Moses  no  doubt 
knew  that  he  had  been  seen  by  some  of  his  own  breth- 
ren, but  he  had  hoped  that  from  them  no  imprudent 
allusions  to  the  deed  would  ever  come.  On  observing 
this  indication  of  an  ungenerous  spirit,  he  judged  that 
it  would  not  be  safe  for  him  to  remain  longer  in  Egypt. 
Orders  were  given  for  his  apprehension ;  but  he  was 
not  to  be  found.  He  was  soon  beyond  the  reach  of 
pursuit.  He  fled  upwards  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  to  the  east,  crossed  the  Red  Sea,  entered  Arabia 
Petrea,  and,  descending  to  the  land  of  Midian,  in  the 
region  of  the  Sinaic  mountains  already  referred  to,  he 
was  married  to  one  of  the  seven  daughters  of  Jethro, 
the  priest  of  Midian,  and  for  forty  years  followed  the 
humble  occupation  of  a  shepherd,  keeping  the  flocks 
of  his  father-in-law;  "meanwhile  forgotten  both  by 
Hebrews  and  Egyptians,  or  remembered  only  as  a 
tradition."  To  the  eye  of  reason,  such  a  conclusion 
to  such  a  life  appears  most  inappropriate  and  unseem- 
ly. The  poet  would  have  crowned  him  with  laurels, 
gathered  from  all  fields ;  the  novelist  would  have  car- 
ried him  onwards  in  a  career  of  earthly  gayety  and 
grandeur  in  the  court  and  kingdom  of  the  Pharaohs. 
But  the  history  of  Moses  is  not  yet  completed ;  and, 
in  the  end,  it  will  be  seen  that  in  his  case,  "  before 
honor  is  humility,"  and  that  "  he  that  humbleth  him- 
self shall  be  exalted." 


MOUNT    HOREB.  87 

PART  III. 

THE    BURNING    BUSH. 

SCENE     ON     HOREB BURNING    BUSH CALL   AND    COMMISSION 

OF      MOSES BUSH      NOT      CONSUMED,     TYPICAL DIFFERENT 

VIEWS    OF    THE    SYMBOL CLOSING    REFLECTIONS. 

Moses  passed  the  first  forty  years  of  his  life  in  the 
palace  of  a  king.  The  next  forty  slid  away  in  the 
wilds  and  solitude  of  an  Arabian  desert.  In  the 
palace  his  manners  had  been  polished,  and  his  mind 
educated.  In  the  desert  both  had  been  subjected  to 
a  discipline  which  was  necessary  to  qualify  him  for 
Dcing  a  "  king  in  Jeshurun."  In  Egypt  he  must  have 
acquired  some  habits,  both  of  temper  and  action,  un- 
suitable to  that  position,  and  these  must  be  subdued. 
He  was  evidently  not  a  meek  man.  He  was  quick 
and  ardent,  and  so  far  disqualified  from  being  the 
leader  of  an  obstinate  and  ungrateful  people.  His 
religious  principles  must  have  been  kept  essentially 
orthodox.  Still,  it  must  be  owned  that  a  life  at  court, 
and  such  a  court  as  Pharaoh's,  could  not  afford  the 
requisite  preparation  for  the  endurance  of  trials  and 
difficulties,  such  as  afterwards  befeU  him.  While, 
then,  his  life  in  the  desert  would  so  far  undo  what  of 
the  Egyptian  remained  in  him,  it  would  likewise  give 
decided  encouragement  to  his  feelings  and  purposes  as 
a  man  of  God.  On  the  mountains  of  Horeb  he  must 
have  often  held  very  close  and  improving  fellowship 
with  Jehovah.  "The  very  grandeur  of  the  scenery 
around  him  would  assist  his  conceptions  of  the  glory 
of  the  Creator.  The  throng  of  cities  and  the  pomp  of 
courts  no  longer  disturbed  his  imaginations.     The 


OO  MOUNT  HOREB. 

solitary  deserts  and  unfrequented  dales  would  present 
other  charms  to  his  mind,  which,  if  not  so  fascinating 
to  mere  sense,  were  far  more  beneficial  to  his  religious 
improvement.  Though  a  recluse  from  the  busy  world, 
he  would  not  be  idle.  He  was  too  much  a  man  of  in- 
tellect for  that.  His  time  would  pass  pleasantly  and 
profitably  away,  in  reflecting  on  the  history  of  his 
fathers,  and  in  turning  to  good  account  the  ample 
materials  of  thought  with  which  his  extensive  and 
various  acquirements  supplied  him." 

Thus  exercised,  and  for  so  long  a  period,  he  became 
what  he  had  not  been,  not  only  a  meek  man,  but,  in 
the  language  of  scripture,  "  very  meek,  above  all  the 
men  on  the  face  of  the  earth."  He  had  great  difiicul- 
ties  to  contend  with,  but  he  became  equal  to  them  all. 
Adversity  seems  to  be  necessary  to  the  man  who  is 
destined  to  act  a  conspicuous  part  in  any  portion  of 
God's  gracious  work.  Thus  was  David,  in  an  after 
age,  prepared  for  the  throne  of  Israel.  Thus  was  Paul 
trained  to  be  an  apostle  ;  and  I  need  not  say  that  thus 
also  "  it  became  Him,  for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by 
whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing  many  sons  unto  glory? 
to  make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  perfect  through 
suffering." 

On  a  certain  day,  Moses  led  his  flock  "  to  the  back 
side  of  the  desert,"  and  came  to  "  the  mountain  of 
God,  even  to  Horeb."  He  did  so,  because  that  local- 
ity is  much  more  verdant  than  the  adjacent  parts ; 
pasture  is  more  abundant,  and  it  is  well  watered. 
But  God,  the  Shepherd  of  Israel,  led  him  to  Horeb  for 
another  purpose.  As  he  watched  these  flocks  on  this 
occasion, — he  might,  as  usual,  be  employed  in  the 
silent  worship  of  Him  whose  awful  form  he  had  so  oft 
seen  shadowed  forth,  and  whose  voice  he  had  so  often 
heard  in  the  storms  of  Sinai — his  attention  was  sud- 


MOUNT    HOREB.  89 

denly  arrested  by  a  remarkable  phenomenon  in  his 
immediate  neighborhood.  This  was  a  flame  of  fire  in 
the  midst  of  a  bush,  and  the  bush  burning,  but  not 
consumed.  His  curiosity  was  excited,  and  he  said  to 
himself,  "  I  will  now  turn  aside  and  see  this  great 
sight,  why  the  bush  is  not  burnt."  But  no  sooner 
did  he  draw  near  than  he  was  addressed  by  a  voice 
from  the  bush  itself,  and  the  voice  said,  "  Moses ! 
Moses!  And  he  said.  Here  am  I."  And  the  voice 
said,  "  Draw  not  nigh  hither  :  pufc  off"  thy  shoes  from 
off  thy  feet ;  for  the  place  whereon  thou  standest  is 
holy  ground."  "What  astonishment  would  seize  the 
mind  of  the  shepherd !  He  saw  no  form  of  angel  or 
of  man,  and  yet  he  heard  the  voice*  thus  distinctly 
name  and  address  him.  He  listened  again,  and  the 
voice  spake — "  I  am  the  God  of  thy  father,  the  God 
of  Abraham,  the  God  of  Isaac,  and  the  God  of  Jacob." 
Moses  became  still  more  overawed,  and,  it  is  written, 
he  "  hid  his  face;  for  he  was  afraid  to  look  upon  God. 
And  the  Lord  said,  I  have  surely  seen  the  affliction  of 
my  people  which  are  in  Egypt;  and  I  am  come  down 
to  deliver  them  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Egyptians,  and 
to  bring  them  up  out  of  that  land  into  a  good  land  and 
a  large,  unto  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey. 
Come  now,  therefore,  and  I  will  send  thee  unto  Pha- 
raoh, that  thou  mayest  bring  forth  my  people,  the 
children  of  Israel,  out  of  Egypt."  God's  ''  set  times" 
always  come  round  for  favoring  Zion.  The  present 
was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  that  we  have  on  rec- 
ord. Now  we  see  the  mysterious  cloud  rising  from 
off  the  covenant  which  he  had  made  with  the  patriarchs, 
and  which  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  clean  forgotten. 
Now  is  about  to  commence  that  long  and  intensely 
interesting  chain  of  events  which  must  include  at  once 
the  gathering  together  into  one  of  the  outcasts  of  Israel, 


90  MOUNT    HOREB. 

their  exodus  from  Egypt,  their  sojourn  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  their  organization  into  a  kingdom,  and  into 
a  church. 

The  scene  on  Horeb  was  eminently  symbolical. 
*'  The  angel  of  the  Lord,"  it  is  said,  "  appeared  in  a 
flame  of  fire."  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  was 
the  glorious  and  eternal  Son,  who  was  in  after  ages  to 
come  into  our  world,  wearing  our  nature.  Fire  or 
light  was,  in  the  former  dispensations,  frequently  em- 
ployed by  God  as  a  symbol  of  his  presence.  Thus, 
when  Moses  returned  with  the  Hebrews  to  this  same 
valley,  Jehovah  descended  on  Mount  Sinai  in  the 
midst  of  fire.  A  pillar  of  fire  preceded  the  Israelites 
in  their  nocturnal  marches.  The  bright  shechina,  or 
visible  glory,  was  the  symbol  of  the  divine  presence 
within  the  holy  of  holies ;  and  in  the  beginning  of  the 
gospel  dispensation,  when  the  Holy  Ghost  came  down 
on  the  apostles,  "  there  appeared  unto  them  cloven 
tongues,  like  as  of  fire,  and  it  sat  upon  each  of  them." 
It  has  been  noted  as  somewhat  singular,  that  among 
the  ancient  Greeks  supernatural  light  was  considered 
a  token  of  the  presence  of  Deity.  Homer  relates  that 
Minerva  waited  on  Ulysses  with  her  golden  lamp  or 
torch ;  and  that  Telemachus  thus  in  rapture  addressed 
his  father — 

"  What  miracle  thus  dazzles  with  surprise  1 
Distinct  in  rows  the  radiant  columns  rise  ; 
The  walls,  where'er  my  wondering  sight  I  turn, 
And  roofs  amid  a  blaze  of  glory  burn  ! 
Some  visitant  of  pure  ethereal  race 
With  his  bright  presence  deigns  the  dome  to  grace !" 

This  symbolical  spectacle,  then,  may  represent  one 
or  other  of  these  things  : — 

1.  The  bush  burning  denotes  the  afflicted  condition 
of  G  od's  people  at  that  time — the  church  suffering  in 


MOUNT    HOREB.  91 

Egypt.  Its  not  being  consumed  intimates  the  inde- 
structibility of  that  church,  notwithstanding  all  that 
was  done  against  her  by  her  oppressors  ;  and  the  angel 
of  God  appearing  in  it  in  a  flame  of  fire,  is  expressive 
of  the  divine  presence  with  her  in  the  midst  of  tribula- 
tions. There  is  a  beautiful  passage  in  one  of  the 
Rabbinical  writings  that  expresses  this  thought  most 
afFectingly :  "  God  walked  in  the  bush,  and  the  bush 
represented  the  trouble  and  sorrow  wherewith  we  are 
encompassed.  But  when  God  saw  his  Israel  walk  in 
the  midst  of  them,  he  resolved  to  walk  likewise  with 
his  people ;  confirming  thus  what  he  said  by  his  pro- 
phet, '  in  all  their  afliictions  he  was  afflicted.' " 

2.  Enlarging  upon  this  interpretation  of  the  symbol, 
it  has  been  applied  to  God's  presence  in  all  the  trials 
of  his  church  in  every  age.  Hence  by  the  mouth  of 
one  of  his  prophets  he  says,  ^'  I,  saith  the  Lord,  will 
be  unto  her  a  wall  of  fire  round  about,  and  will  be  the 
glory  in  the  midst  of  her."  Again — ''  And  the  Lord 
will  create  upon  every  dwelling-place  of  Mount  Zion, 
and  upon  her  assemblies,  a  cloud  and  smoke  by  day, 
and  the  shining  of  a  flaming  fire  by  night :  for  upon 
all  the  glory  shall  be  a  defence."  When  these  prom- 
ises are  fulfilled,  then  the  church  shall  "look  forth 
as  the  morning,  fair  as  the  moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and 
terrible  as  an  army  with  banners." 

3.  A  third  interpretation  refers  this  symbol  to  the 
future  passion  of  our  Saviour,  when  he  endured  the 
dreadful  fire  of  Jehovah's  anger,  as  our  substitute, 
on  the  accursed  tree,  and  yet  was  not  destroyed.  He 
arose  from  the  fiery  ordeal,  a  Saviour  ''  made  perfect" 
in  consequence. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  the  design  of  Jehovah- Jesus 
in  this  manifestation.  He  knew  that  the  man  whom 
he  had  chosen  was  not  so  "forward"  now  as  he  had 


92  MOUNT  HOREB. 

been  in  the  days  when  he  slew  the  Egyptian.  Forty 
years'  seclusion  in  the  desert  had,  in  a  great  measure, 
moderated  his  views.  The  impetuosity  of  youth  had 
been  subdued,  and  the  desire  for  an  active  life  had 
been  moderated,  if  not  extinguished,  within  him. 
Hence,  at  the  time,  he  shows  great  backwardness  to 
comply  with  the  invitation  of  the  angel.  The  man- 
ner, however,  of  his  call,  the  sight  he  saw,  the  words 
he  heard,  all  tended  to  revive  his  ancient  longings 
after  deeds  of  enterprise  and  glory.  To  the  encour- 
agements of  Jehovah  he  finally  yielded.  "  His  hesita- 
tion and  resistance  had  been  that  of  a  man  but  too 
well  aware  of  the  duties  of  the  office  to  which  he  was 
called,  and  who  knew  that  they  must  be  discharged, 
and  was  determined  to  discharge  them.  So,  hence- 
forth we  hear  no  more  of  doubt  and  difficulty.  The 
youth  of  his  mind  was  revived,  and  from  that  day  to 
the  last  of  his  protracted  life,  all  its  powerful  energies 
were  devoted  to  the  deliverance  and  welfare  of  Israel." 
That  heart  is  to  be  pitied  which  remains  unim- 
pressed by  such  a  scene  as  this.  With  intense  interest 
the  church  had  waited  for  centuries  on  the  develop- 
ment of  the  divine  plans ;  but  generations  passed  away 
and  no  sound  was  heard  but  her  own  sighing  in  exile, 
and  no  sight  was  seen,  either  in  heaven  or  earth,  to 
indicate  that  Jehovah  still  remembered  the  seed  of 
Abraham.  At  last  when  matters  had  come  to  the 
worst,  Jehovah  re-appears,  in  an  unfrequented  and 
remote  region,  and  to  a  man  whom  his  brethren  had 
rejected.  So  true  is  it  that  "the  kingdom  of  God 
Cometh  not  with  observation."  He  brings  up  liis  Moses 
from  a  desert  to  drive  Pliaraoh  from  a  tin-one.  It  was 
to  be  expected  that,  wlien  Jehovah  did  again  mani- 
fest himself,  it  would  be  to  accomplish  some  very  grand 
object,  and  that  in  some  very  striking  and  imposing 


MOUNT    HOREB.  93 

form.  Apparently  there  was  little  external  grandeur 
in  a  burning  bush ;  but,  when  examined,  it  turned 
out  to  be  a  most  marvellous  thing ;  for  though  burn- 
ing it  was  not  consumed.  And  thus  it  is  with  some 
of  the  grandest  moral  manifestations  of  Deity.  Cal- 
vary and  its  cross  were  "  unto  the  Jews  a  stumbling- 
block,  and  unto  the  Greeks  foolishness ;"  but,  when 
looked  into  with  a  clear  eye,  there  were  beheld  the 
wisdom  and  the  power  of  God.  There,  men  and 
devils  considered  that  they  had  destroyed  the  man 
whom  they  hated ;  but,  when  Faith  reconnoitred  the 
scene,  it  saw  victory  crowning  the  Saviour — it  saw 
the  blood  and  terror  of  death  produce  the  life  and  glory 
of  millions  born,  and  as  yet  unborn.  Apparently,  too, 
this  resumption  of  the  divine  intercourse  with  men 
promised  but  little,  save  a  mere  temporal  deliverance 
from  slavery ;  but,  read  as  it  is  now,  in  the  light  of 
its  progressive  and  ultimate  history,  how  big  with 
marvellous  consequences  was  the  scene  at  Horeb ! 
True,  much  was  still  hid  of  what  were  to  be  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  economy  to  be  constructed ;  but,  though 
only  gently  and  slowly,  at  Horeb,  the  veil  is  partially 
rent,  so  that  we  can  discern,  far  down  into  the  vista 
of  the  future,  the  faint  outlines  of  the  -'fat  things"  in 
reserve  for  the  house  of  Israel.  Jehovah  now  appears 
intent  on  great  exploits.  As  if  he  can  wait  no  longer, 
even  on  himself,  he  here  strikingly  typifies  much  of 
what  afterwards  passed  into  the  substance  of  the  gos- 
pel plan.  Here  were  prophet,  priest,  and  king,  in 
Moses.  Here  was  the  eternal  Word  to  be  made  flesh, 
and  to  suffer  and  die  in  the  fulness  of  the  times,  sym- 
bolized in  the  flame  in  the  bush,  and  in  the  miraculous 
preservation  of  the  bush  in  the  flame.  Soon,  now,  the 
necessary  exodus  from  Egypt  is  to  be  made.  Soon, 
now,  that  awful  voice,  which  had  never  been  heard 


TO  MOUNT    HOREB. 

from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  except  by  one  or  two 
favored  sons  of  men,  was  to  be  heard  by  millions  at  a 
time ;  and  soon  the  whole  elements  of  the  preparatory 
economy,  which  was  to  embody  the  types  and  figures 
of  the  person,  offices,  and  atonement  of  Christ,  were 
to  be  made  known  and  put  into  operation. 

Let  us  not  despise  the  day  of  small  things.  It 
seems  a  simple  matter  to  open  or  to  shut  a  door ;  but 
the  opening  of  a  door  for  entrance  may  be  followed  by 
the  sight  and  possession  of  all  the  treasures  that  are 
within  ;  while  the  shutting  of  that  door,  and  the  keep- 
ing of  it  shut,  may  leave  thousands  in  destitution  and 
despair.  At  Horeb  such  a  door  was  opened,  and  it 
was  never  shut  till  the  dispensation  to  which  it  be- 
longed was  dissolved.  God  here  threw  back  from  his 
secret  place  much  of  that  awful  mystery  that  had 
hitherto  shrouded  it,  and  his  church  now  approached 
nearer  to  him  than  it  had  ever  done.  It  got  within 
the  mystic  circle  that,  for  ages  to  come,  was  to  com- 
prehend and  witness  his  preparatory  movements,  up 
to  the  actual  sacrifice  of  himself  in  human  form  on 
the  cross.  Once,  therefore,  fairly  enclosed  with  him 
in  covenant  engagements  now  to  be  executed,  that 
church,  from  this  time,  looked  every  day  and  year  for 
some  more  pertinent  and  consolatory  revelations  of 
ultimate  design,  till  the  whole  scheme  should  be 
finished,  and  the  preliminary  arrangements  disappear. 

Nor  did  she  look  in  vain.  To  this  very  spot,  in  a 
short  time,  did  Moses  return  with  the  church  ;  and, 
from  that  day,  forward  to  the  hour  of  Christ's  death, 
came  forth  the  great  and  glorious  decrees  of  divine 
love,  becoming  more  and  more  clear,  and  more  and 
more  ample,  as  the  period  approached  for  the  magnifi- 
cent consummation  on  the  cross.  Whatever  God 
begins  he  will  complete.     He  may  promise  to  our 


MOUNT    HOREB.  95 

first  parents,  and  leave  off  for  hundreds  of  years,  as  if 
he  had  not;  he  may  promise  again  to  Noah,  and 
retire  for  other  centuries,  as  if  he  were  slack  concern- 
ing his  word ;  he  may  promise  again  to  Abraham,  and 
hide  himself  for  other  hundreds  of  years  ;  but  he  will 
return  to  Horeb,  and  lay  deep  the  foundations  of  that 
gorgeous  structure,  before  whose  altars,  and  within 
whose  temples,  he  indicates  for  as  many  centuries  his 
future  plans  of  vindicating  his  own  covenant  honor. 
And,  when  at  last  the  sacred  cycle  is  complete,  when 
the  full  round  of  typical  revolutions  has  been  made, 
there,  in  the  very  Son  of  his  love,  and  in  the  Saviour 
of  his  people,  he  comes  forth  resplendent  in  the  re- 
demption of  promises,  to  be  glorified  in  all  his  saints. 

Let  the  people  of  God  see  in  all  this  the  pledge  of 
that  safety,  triumph,  and  perfection,  which  yet  await 
the  church.  Truly  her  best  and  brightest  days  are 
yet  to  come.  Though  now  under  the  superior  and 
clearer  light  of  the  gospel,  and  even  "  willing  for  a 
season  to  rejoice"  in  that  light,  yet  does  she,  after  all, 
only  "  see  through  a  glass  darkly."  Though  possessed 
of  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  makes  his  people  free, 
yet  there  are  not  a  few  fetters  which  impede  her  prog- 
ress, which  remind  her  of  her  wilderness  condition, 
and  tell  her  that  "  this  is  not  her  rest :"  and  though 
secure  of  the  favor  and  gracious  presence  of  her  King, 
who  has  promised  to  destroy  every  one  of  her  enemies, 
yet  is  she  frequently  brought  upon  days  of  darkness, 
in  which  she  goes  about  "  mourning  without  the  sun," 
these  enemies  apparently  prevailing  over  her,  and  her 
cause  brought  well  nigh  to  the  dust.  But  there  is  no 
reason  why  she  sliould  either  murmur  or  despond. 
Her  progress  towards  a  more  glorious  condition,  even 
in  this  world,  than  any  she  has  as  yet  reached,  is  cer- 
tified to  her,  not  only  in  the  modes  of  God's  dealing 


96  MOUNT  HOREB. 

with  Zion  in  ancient  times,  but  in  many  precious  as- 
surances to  that  effect.  Her  millemiial  glory  yet 
awaits  her  ;  and  it  shall  as  surely  come,  as  came  ''  the 
fulness  of  the  time,"  and  the  birth  of  the  promised 
Shiloh.  Her  celestial  glory,  too,  is  yet  to  be  attained, 
and  attained  it  shall  be,  under  the  divine  sway  of  Him 
who,  on  Horeb,  was  shadowed  forth  in  the  symbolic 
bush,  but  who,  in  heaven,  shall  be  seen  face  to  face  by 
"  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born." 
"  Amen.     Even  so,  come.  Lord  Jesus  !" 


MOUNT    SINAI, 


THE   PROMULGATION  OF   THE    LAW. 


When  the  angel  of  the  Lord  had  left  communing 
with  Moses,  we  are  told  that  "  he  took  his  wife  and 
his  sons,  and  set  them  upon  an  ass,  and  he  returned 
to  the  land  of  Egypt.  And  Moses  took  the  rod  of  God 
in  his  hand."  On  his  arrival  in  Egypt  he  convened 
the  elders  of  Israel,  and  acquainted  them  with  what 
had  been  disclosed  to  him  on  Horeb.  His  brother 
Aaron  was,  from  this  period,  associated  with  him  in 
the  sacred  office  to  which  God  had  consecrated  them. 
It  is  written,  ''the  people  believed;  and  when  they 
heard  that  the  Lord  had  visited  the  children  of  Israel, 
and  that  he  had  looked  upon  their  affliction,  then  they 
bowed  their  heads  and  worshipped."  Upon  the  various 
plagues  sent  to  Pharaoh  and  his  people,  to  influence 
them  to  give  the  Hebrews  an  exodus  from  Egypt,  we 
need  not  animadvert.  That  liberty  was  at  length 
granted,  and  the  Israelites  marched  out  of  the  country 
of  their  long  bondage,  crossed  the  Red  Sea  miracu- 
lously, and  continued  their  journey  in  Arabia  Petrea 
for  nearly  three  months,  till  they  came  into  the  wilder- 
ness of  Sinai,  and  "there  Israel  camped  before  the 
mount;"  that   is,  upon  the  low  grounds   before  the 

0 


98  MOUNT    SINAI. 

double-peaked  mountain  formerly  described.  Horeb 
was  the  scene  of  the  burning  bush  ;  but  the  promul- 
gation of  the  law  was  made  from  the  mountain  of 
Moses,  which  is  Sinai.  To  the  sublime  and  altogether 
appalling  circumstances  in  which  that  law  was  deliv- 
ered let  us  now  direct  our  meditations.* 


PART    I. 

THE    GIVING    OF    THE    LAW. 

PREPARATIONS    FOR    THE    DESCENT    OF  JEHOVAH THE    DIVINE 

APPROACH ITS    APPALLING     CONCOMITANTS MOSES'  AS- 
CENTS   AND    DESCENTS — THE    GOLDEN  CALF. 

On  the  occasion  of  Jehovah's  former  visit  to  this 
wild  region,  only  one  of  his  people  was  present.  At 
this  time,  six  hundred  thousand  men,  besides  women 
and  children,  amounting  to  nearly  three  millions  in 
aU,  were  encamped  before  Sinai,  and  there  witnessed 
the  grandest  spectacle  ever  presented  to  the  eyes  of 
mortals.  It  was  now  the  purpose  of  God  to  come 
down  from  heaven  and  display  his  glory.  But,  pre- 
vious to  this,  three  days  were  to  elapse,  which  were  to 
be  occupied  in  solemn  preparations  for  meeting  God, 
who,  on  the  third  day,  was  to  come  down  in  the  sight 
of  all  the  people.  The  Hebrews  were  to  wash  their 
clothes,  to  sanctify  themselves,  to  set  bounds  around 
the  mount,  across  which  neither  priests  nor  people 
were  to  step,  on  peril  of  perishing ;  yea,  tliey  were  not 
to  touch  the  mount,  not  even  the  border  of  it ;  "  for 

*  Exodus  xix. 


MOUNT    SINAI.  99 

whosoever  toucheth  the  mount  shall  be  surely  put  to 
death."  We  can  easily  conceive  the  intense  interest 
with  which  that  vast  multitude  would  attend  to  these 
instructions,  and  their  deep  solicitude  about  the  inten- 
tions of  that  awful  Being  who  was  to  manifest  his 
glory  before  them.  Within  every  tent  this  would  be 
the  topic  of  conversation,  and  within  every  mind  this 
would  be  the  predominant  subject  of  thought.  Many 
eager  looks,  during  these  days  of  preliminary  arrange- 
ment, would  be  directed  to  that  bleak  and  frowning 
mountain,  and  many  conjectures  would  be  formed 
about  the  moment  and  the  mode  of  the  grand  descent 
on  its  summit ! 

The  morning  of  the  third  day  dawned — all  Israel 
was  astir  ;  there  was  a  going  to  and  fro  among  the 
people.  We  may  believe  no  sluggard  folded  his  arms 
to  sleep  then.  At  every  tent-door  throughout  the 
wilderness,  were  groups  of  gazing  spectators.  Fathers 
were  there  whose  hands  had  been  hardened  in  the 
oppressions  of  Egypt ;  mothers  were  there  whose  hearts 
had  sunk  within  them  over  the  tears  and  cries  of  their 
enslaved  children;  and  children  were  there  who  did 
not  yet  understand  the  ways  of  the  Lord,  but  who 
were  destined  to  become  the  future  warriors  that 
should  take  possession  of  the  land  of  promise.  As 
they  thus  stood,  the  order  of  Moses  circulated  through- 
out the  camp  that  they  should  all  come  forth  and  meet 
with  God.  And  they  all  came  forth  and  "  stood  at 
the  nether  part  of  the  mount."  Now,  every  tongue  is 
silent,  every  murmur  hushed,  and  every  eye  is  fixed 
on  Sinai.  The  stillness  that  pervades  the  vast  assem- 
bly is  fearfully  profound,  when,  lo  !  a  distant  rumbling 
noise  disturbs  that  stillness.  It  is  the  noise  of  thunder. 
The  people  draw  closer  to  one  another,  for  thunder  has 
a  solemnizing  effect ;  it  is  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God 


100  MOUNT    SINAI. 

omnipotent.  Then  after  the  thunder,  came  vivid  and 
terrific  flashes  of  lightning.  The  people  turn  pale,  and 
fix  themselves  more  firmly  on  the  ground.  The 
mother  hides  her  babe  in  her  bosom,  the  children  cling 
to  their  parents,  and  the  parents  fear  for  themselves 
and  offspring.  After  the  thunders  and  lightnings, 
came  down  a  thick  cloud  upon  the  mount.  By  and 
by,  Sinai  is  enveloped,  from  its  summit  to  its  base,  in 
smoke ;  which  smoke  "  ascended  as  the  smoke  of  a 
furnace." 

Sinai  is  now  invisible,  and  the  people,  whom  fear 
has  wedged  more  closely  together,  gaze  in  astonish- 
ment, wondering  what  prodigies  must  next  appear. 
As  they  looked  upon  that  dense  mass  of  cloud,  within 
whose  smoky  folds  the  sacred  hill  lay  concealed,  they 
beheld  strange  fire  descending  from  the  higher  regions 
of  the  air.  That  fire  alighted  on  the  summit  of  the 
cloud-clothed  Sinai ;  and  in  that  fire  was  the  Al- 
mighty himself.  Then,  piercing  through  cloud  and 
camp,  w^as  heard  "  the  voice  of  a  trumpet,  exceeding 
loud ;"  and  that  voice  sounded  long,  and  waxed  louder 
and  louder.  It  was  not  the  varying  notes  of  the  loud 
clarion  playing  wHth  the  gentle  and  musical  echoes  of 
the  hills,  but  one  long,  long,  monotonous,  load,  and 
ever  waxing  louder  stream  of  awful  sound,  which 
drowned  the  very  noise  of  the  thunder  itself.  Then, 
not  only  the  millions  of  Israel,  but  the  ground  on  which 
they  stood,  trembled,  and  Sinai  rocked  to  and  fro  as 
in  a  cradle  I  Angels  were  employed  in  this  astonish- 
ing display;  for  "the  Lord  shined  forth  from  Paran 
with  the  thousands  of  his  saints,"  (that  is  of  his  angels,) 
and  then  "  the  earth  trembled  at  the  presence  of  the 
Lord,"  and  "  the  mountains  skipped  like  rams  ;  yea, 
even  Sinai  melted  from  before  the  Lord  God  of  Israel  I" 
It  is  impossible  to  do  justice,  by  description,  to  such  a 


MOUNT    SINAI.  101 

terrific  and  sublime  scene  as  this.  To  describe  it  is  to 
profane  it.  Let  us,  therefore,  put  off  the  shoes  from 
our  feet.  But,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  thundering,  and 
flashing,  and  quaking,  another  sound,  different  from 
the  rest,  reaches  the  ear.  It  is  the  voice  of  one  that 
speaks.  They  listen,  and  they  hear  some  one  com- 
manding their  leader  to  ascend  to  the  very  top  of  that 
mount.  It  is  the  voice  of  God  !  And  will  Moses 
have  courage  to  go  up,  in  the  very  midst  of  that  fire, 
exposed  to  the  terrors  and  perils  of  that  dread  artillery  ? 
For  a  moment  every  eye  in  the  camp  is  fixed  on  him. 
Some  fear  that  he  may  be  destroyed,  and  others,  per- 
haps, implore  him  to  remain.  But,  behold !  the  man 
of  God  arises  I  How  erect  his  person,  and  how  tran- 
quil his  appearance  I  He  proceeds  to  the  sacred  limit, 
steps  over  it,  ascends,  enters  the  cloud,  and  disappears  ! 
Moses  rested  not  till  he  gained  the  very  summit. 
And  not  a  few  men  of  God  since  then,  have  had  to 
climb  even  the  ascent  of  Zion  encompassed  with  many 
legal  terrors.  Determined,  however,  to  gain  its  mer- 
ciful and  blissful  heights,  whatever  were  the  difficul- 
ties and  the  discouragements  of  the  passage,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  they  succeeded. 

The  scripture  is  not  altogether  silent  as  to  what 
took  place  on  the  top  of  the  mount,  between  Jehovah 
and  his  servant.  Moses  received  a  commandment  to 
go  down  again,  without  delay,  and  prevent  the  people 
firom  looking  through  the  prescribed  bounds  to  gaze. 
Permission  was,  at  the  same  time,  given  to  bring  up 
Aaron,  when  he  should  return.  Moses  descended; 
and  immediately  after  he  had  resumed  his  proper  po- 
sition a  the  head  of  the  congregation,  the  voice  of 
God  was  again  heard  froni  within  the  cloud  on  the  top 
of  the  mount ;  and  it  was  at  this  time,  and  in  those 
circumstances,  that  the  moral  law,  which  comprehends 


102  MOUNT    SINAI, 

the  ten  commandments,  was  promulgated.  Surely, 
never  was  there  before,  and  never  has  there  been  since, 
such  a  sermon,  and  such  a  preacher,  and  such  an  au- 
dience. With  the  mountain  top  for  his  pulpit,  and 
the  firmament  for  its  canopy,  Jehovah  here  lifted  up" 
his  voice,  and  became  himself  the  preacher  to  millions 
of  his  people.  Surely,  too,  every  eye  was  fixed  on 
that  mysterious  fire  upon  the  summit  of  the  mount, 
and  every  ear  listened  to  these  solemn  commandments, 
and  every  heart  beat  in  holy  unison  with  the  will  of 
the  preacher.  We  are  apt  to  think  so  ;  but  it  is  pos- 
sible that  there  were  inattentive  hearers,  even  on  that 
day,  in  that  vast  congregation ;  just  as  now,  men  and 
women  sit  indifferent  under  the  preaching  of  the  gospel 
of  God,  which  uses  no  threats,  but  offers  salvation  and 
eternal  life.  Let  us  not  boast  ourselves  as  if  we  were 
something ;  but,  for  the  encouragement  of  humility 
and  self-distrust,  let  us  ever  remember  our  liord's 
striking  words,  in  the  parable  of  the  rich  man  and 
Lazarus,  *'  If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
neither  wdll  they  be  persuaded  though  one  rose  from 
the  dead."  The  human  heart  is  to  be  changed  nei- 
ther by  the  terrors  of  Sinai  nor  by  the  persuasions  of 
the  gospel.  It  is  not  by  the  might  of  the  one,  nor  by 
the  power  of  the  other,  but  by  the  convincing  and  en- 
lightening influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  As  Jehovah 
was  repeating  these  holy,  just,  and  good 'command- 
ments, the  solemnizing  phenomena  of  thmider,  fire, 
cloud,  earthquake,  and  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  accom- 
panied his  dreadful  voice.  The  eflect  of  this  upon  the 
people  seems  to  have  been  overwhelming.  So  long  as 
God  kept  silence,  they  had.  been  able  to  listen  and 
look  without  absolute  consternation  ;  but  when  this 
voice  was  heard,  they  seem  to  have  become  incapable 
of  farther  endurance :  '*  And  they  said  unto  Moses, 


MOUNT    SINAI.  103 

Speak  thou  with  us,  and  we  will  hear ;  but  let  not 
God  speak  with  us,  lest  we  die."  The  people  then 
retired  farther  and  farther  from  the  mount.  But 
Moses  "  drew  nearer  and  nearer  unto  the  thick  dark- 
ness where  God  was."  It  appears,  then,  that  the  only- 
portion  of  what  was  revealed  on  Sinai,  which  was 
heard  by  all  the  people,  was  the  moral  law,  or  the  ten 
commandments.  To  Moses,  alone,  the  minutae  of  the 
judicial  or  civil  law,  and  the  regulations  of  a  ceremo- 
nial or  ritual  character  were  communicated. 

Immediately  after  he  had  received  the  judicial  law, 
Moses  returned  to  the  camp,  repeated  to  the  people  all 
that  God  had  spoken ;  and  obtained  from  them  a  sol- 
enrm  promise  that  "  all  the  words  which  the  Lord  had 
said  they  would  do."  He  then  rose  up  early  next 
morning,  and  wrote  down  the  judicial  enactments  for 
future  use.  He  next  built  an  altar,  on  which  were 
offered  sacrifices  of  oxen  to  the  Lord.  After  which, 
he  took  the  book  in  which  he  had  written  the  law,  and 
read  it  in  the  audience  of  the  people ;  and  they  said, 
"  All  that  the  Lord  hath  said  will  we  do,  and  be  obe- 
dient." This  over,  Moses,  according  to  his  instruc- 
tions re-ascended  the  mount,  taking  with  him  Aaron, 
Nadab,  and  Abihu,  and  seventy  of  the  elders  of  Is- 
rael. Having  reached  a  particular  elevation,  a  very 
splendid  sight  met  their  view  :  ''  And  they  saw  the 
God  of  Israel ;  and  there  was  under  his  feet  as  it  were 
a  paved  work  of  a  sapphire  stone,  and  as  it  were  the 
body  of  heaven  in  his  clearness ;  and  upon  the  nobles 
of  the  children  of  Israel  he  laid  not  his  hand,  and  they 
saw  God  ;  and  did  eat  and  drink."  This  sublime 
scene  seems  to  have  lasted  six  days  ;  after  which,  these 
representatives  of  the  congregation  returned  to  the 
camp.  They  all  descended,  excepting  Moses  and 
Joshua,  who,  for  reasons  not  specified,  remained  for 


104  MOUNT    SINAI. 

several  days  by  themselves.  On  the  seventh  day,  Moses 
was  again  commanded  to  come  up  to  the  summit  of 
the  mountain ;  which  he  did,  leaving  Joshua  his  min- 
ister alone.  At  this  time  Moses  continued  forty  days 
and  forty  nights,  in  the  cloud  on  the  top  of  Sinai,  with 
the  God  of  Israel;  and  all  that  time  "the  sight  of 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  was  like  devouring  fire,  on  the 
top  of  the  mount,  in  the  eyes  of  the  children  of  Is- 
rael." During  this  long  interview,  Moses  received  from 
Jehovah  the  whole  of  what  is  called  the  ceremonial 
law ;  also,  the  two  tables  of  stone,  with  the  ten  com- 
mandments inscribed  on  them  by  the  finger  of  God 
himself. 

This  part  of  the  sacred  narrative  is  interrupted  with 
an  account  of  a  most  extraordinary  instance  of  human 
depravity.  The  Israelites,  notwithstanding  all  that 
they  had  so  recently  beheld  and  heard,  when  they  saw 
that  Moses  was  so  long  of  returning,  concluded  that 
he  might  be  dead,  and  that  they  might  betake  them- 
selves to  other  gods.  "  Up,  make  us  gods,"  they  said 
to  Aaron,  "  which  shall  go  before  us ;  for  as  for  this 
Moses,  the  man  that  brought  us  up  out  of  the  land  of 
Egypt,  we  wot  not  what  is  become  of  him."  How  to 
account  for  it  we  know  not,  but  Aaron  appears  to 
consent ;  a  golden  calf  is  made,  and  Israel  falls  down 
to  worship  the  idol  on  the  very  spot  where  God  had 
so  recently  commanded,  "  Thou  shalt  have  no  other 
gods  before  me,"  and  at  the  very  time,  too,  that  Sinai 
is  crowned  with  his  glory,  and  as  yet  is  shaking  under 
the  tread  of  his  foot.  Moses  is  ordered  quickly  to  de- 
scend. He  finds  Joshua  on  the  way,  and  together 
they  reach  the  idolatrous  multitude.  The  man  of 
God  is  wroth  at  the  disgraceful  and  humiliating  sight 
which  met  his  eye,  and  casts  down  and  breaks  to 
pieces  the  two  tables  of  stone.    He  challenges  all  that 


MOUNT    SINAI.  105 

are  on  the  Lord's  side  to  come  unto  him.  The  sons 
of  Levi  come.  Every  man  girds  his  sword  by  his 
side  ;  then  they  rush  from  gate  to  gate  throughout  the 
camp,  and  "  slew  every  man  his  brother,  and  every 
man  his  companion,  and  every  man  his  neighbor ;  and 
there  fell  of  the  people  that  day  three  thousand  men." 
Immediately  after  this,  Moses  is  again,  and  for  the 
last  time,  ordered  to  ascend  to  the  top  of  Sinai ;  and 
after  hewing  two  tables  of  stone  like  unto  the  first,  he 
was  found  on  its  sacred  summit.  Again  did  Jehovah 
appear  descending  on  the  mount  in  the  cloud,  and 
again  did  other  forty  days  and  forty  nights  pass  away 
before  Moses  was  seen.  It  was  at  this  time  that  he 
was  favored  with  the  sight  of  the  glory  of  God,  and 
with  the  proclamation  of  the  incommunicable  name 
as  Jehovah  passed  by.  Now,  also,  he  got  other  two 
tables  of  testimony,  in  lieu  of  those  he  had  broken, 
with  additional  instructions  for  the  government  of  the 
church  and  commonwealth  of  the  Hebrews.  He  then 
returned  to  the  camp ;  but  so  brilliant  had  the  com- 
plexion of  his  face  now  become,  from  this  long  com- 
munion with  God,  that  he  had  to  cast  a  veil  over  his 
head  before  the  people  could  approach  him.  Many 
reflections  crowd  upon  the  devout  and  believing  mind 
when  contemplating  such  scenes.  To  some  of  these 
let  us  now  attend. 

5* 


106  MOUNT    SINAI. 

PART   II. 

THE  PROCLAMATIONS   FROM   SINAI. 

god's   awful   majesty man's    depravity EXCELLENCE    OP 

THE    LAW MAN  BOUND  TO  OBEY CONTRAST  BETWEEN  LAW 

AND    GOSPEL RESPONSIBILITIES    OF    CHRISTIANS. 

I.  SiNAi  PROCLAIMS — How  GREAT  IS  GoD  ! — Surely 
this  God  is  the  Lord,  and  besides  him  there  is  none 
else.  He  is  the  supreme  and  only  potentate.  By 
him  kings  reign,  and  princes  decree  justice.  ''  The 
Lord  is  a  great  God  and  a  great  King,  above  all  gods. 
In  his  hand  are  the  deep  places  of  the  earth ;  the 
strength  of  the  hills  is  his  also !"  He,  and  he  alone, 
giveth  laws  to  his  people  !  "When  he  made  man  at 
the  first  he  gave  him  these  laws;  they  were  written 
in  his  heart.  No  thunder,  nor  lightning,  nor  trumpet 
sound  were  needed  to  command  for  them  the  rever- 
ence of  the  creature.  Made  in  the  image  of  God,  he 
naturally  took  to  the  law  of  God,  and  gave  it  perfect 
and  cheerful  obedience.  This,  however,  continued 
only  for  a  time.  The  creature  transgressed  these 
laws ;  and,  though  afterwards  human  nature  became 
desperately  wicked,  the  voice  of  conscience,  vindicat- 
ing these  laws  as  wise,  and  just,  and  good,  was  not 
altogether  silenced.  Still,  their  fair  and  full  lineaments 
were,  to  a  great  extent,  obliterated ;  and  as  the  sove- 
reign Legislator  had  not,  and  could  not  have,  relaxed 
his  claims  on  obedience,  so  was  it  to  be  expected  that 
there  would  at  some  time  be,  on  his  part,  a  re-publica- 
tion of  the  law,  in  such  a  form  and  manner  as  would 
suit  the  depraved  nature  and  rebellious  position  of  the 


MOUNT    SINAI.  107 

creature.  That  time  had  now  come,  and  the  law  was 
reproduced,  as  we  have  seen.  How  great  is  God! 
How  glorious  in  his  holiness  !  Nearly  fifteen  hundred 
years  had  passed  since  that  law  had  been  broken,  but 
not  until  now  was  it  re-issued.  In  this  the  sove- 
reignty of  God  is  most  apparent.  He  must  do  every- 
thing, or  nothing  is  done.  If  law  is  to  be  given,  he 
must  promulgate  it.  If  gospel  is  to  be  preached,  he 
must  originate  and  proclaim  it.  He  is  indeed  the 
Alpha  and  Omega  at  once  of  the  law  and  of  the  gos- 
pel. '^  Counsel  is  his,  and  sound  wisdom :  He  is 
understanding ;  he  has  strength  i" 

It  is  solemnizing  to  think  that  the  God  with  whom 
we  all  have  to  do,  is  the  very  same  Jehovah  who, 
at  this  time,  and  in  these  dreadful  circumstances, 
appeared  on  Sinai.  He  is  as  majestic  as  ever  in  his 
displays  of  glory ;  and  though  his  thunders  may  not 
play  around  one  particular  mountain,  nor  his  light- 
ning illumine  one  particular  valley,  nor  his  footsteps 
shake  one  particular  region  of  the  solid  globe,  nor  his 
voice  resound  throughout  one  particular  encampment 
of  his  creatures,  still  are  all  these  manifestations  of 
his  presence  and  power  every  now  and  then  made 
throughout  the  extent  of  nature,  to  awaken  his  people 
to  attention,  and  to  subdue  them  to  reverence.  These 
phenom.ena  are  his  instruments ;  they  wait  upon  him 
to  serve  him,  and  at  any  time  he  may  give  them 
commandment  to  go  forth  and  execute  his  purposes. 
That  a  time  shall  come  when  that  commandment  will 
be  issued,  we  believe.  Let  us  prepare  to  meet  it. 
How  dreadful  the  idea  of  meeting  such  a  God,  in  such 
terrific  disclosures  of  his  majesty,  with  all  our  sins 
unforgiven  !  Awake,  awake,  ye  sleepers  !  Escape 
for  your  lives !  Flee  unto  Jesus !  God  is  in  him 
reconciling  you  to  himself.     You  surely  cannot  fail  to 


108  MOUNT    SINAI. 

see  the  necessity  of  being  at  peace  with  this  God  be- 
fore a  day  of  judgment  dawns.  The  thought  of  his 
incomprehensible  greatness  ought  of  itself  to  induce 
you  to  repent  and  obey.  You  know  it,  and  you  can- 
not deny  it ;  for  it  is  written  in  your  very  hearts,  that 
it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  such  a 
God. 

II.  Sinai  proclaiivis — How  depraved  is  man  ! — Be- 
hold him  at  the  foot  of  Sinai  in  all  his  meanness. 
That  Hebrew,  kneeling  before  yon  golden  calf,  is  but 
the  type  of  every  sinner.  Such  would  we  all  become 
if  left  to  ourselves.  Alas  I  for  poor  human  nature ! 
Let  it  come  in  its  dignity  and  see  itself  in  the  camp 
of  Israel,  and  then  go  away  and  fling  that  dignity  to 
the  dust.  Is  it  not  humiliating  to  think  of  it  ?  God 
had  delivered  them  from  bondage ;  God  had  parted  the 
waters  of  the  sea  that  they  might  safely  pass  over  ;  he 
had  sweetened  the  waters  of  Marah  for  them,  and 
brought  them  to  this  mount  in  safety ;  here  he  had 
exhibited  his  awful  majesty,  in  a  form  the  most  appal- 
ling— the  most  fitted  to  produce  impressions,  even  on 
hearts  as  hard  as  Horeb  rocks ;  and  yet,  while  Sinai 
trembles  and  smokes,  and  awful  thunder  rolls ;  while 
the  echoes  of  Jehovah's  voice  are  yet  pealing  among 
the  mountains;  and  while  the  terror  that  whitened 
their  faces,  and  made  their  knees  shake  the  one  against 
the  other,  has  scarce  forsaken  them,  they  demand  an 
idol ;  they  manufacture  a  calf  out  of  the  gold  of  their 
ear-rings,  and  dance  around  it  in  the  madness  of  pro- 
fane mirth.  O  man,  thou  art  fallen  by  thy  iniquity .' 
pride  ill  becomes  thee  I  If  there  is  a  spot  on  this  sin- 
stained  soil  more  lowly,  more  obscure  than  another, 
thither  go  and  prostrate  thyself  before  the  most  high 
God,  and  exclaim,  "  Unclean !  unclean !  woe  is  me ! 


MOUNT    SINAI.  109 

for  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips,  and  I  dwell  among  a 
people  of  unclean  lips." 

Not  one  good  interest  in  humanity  can  be  served, 
by  pampering  the  pride  of  our  nature,  and  yet  nothing 
is  more  disrelished  by  the  carnal  man  than  allusions  to 
his  utter  vileness.     To  yield  to  this  weakness  in  him 
is  cruelty  ;  inasmuch   as  our  giving  him  credit  for 
being  better  than  he  is,  does  not  actually  make  him 
so ;  and  he  is  thereby  tempted  to  think  more  highly 
of  himself  than  he  ought,  and  to  be  hurried  into  speech 
and  action,  by  which  his  miseries  are  augmented  and 
his  difficulties  increased.     It  is  always  best  to  tell  the 
truth,  however  disagreeable  it  may  be ;  for  this  tells 
best,  alike   on   our    own  well-being   and  well-doing. 
Besides,  the  gospel  remedy  can  never  be  valued  nor 
applied  while  self-righteousness  retains  its  seat  in  the 
human  mind.     The  very  first  step  to  salvation  is  to 
become  nothing  in   ourselves ;  to   feel  and  own  the 
truth  of  the  depravity  of  our  natures,  and  the  worth- 
lessness  of  our  own  works,  and  to  rely  with  confidence 
on  the  righteousness  of  Christ  for  our  acceptance  be- 
fore God.     Happy  is  the  man  who  is  emptied  of  self; 
that  man  is  soon  to  be  full  of  Christ.     But  to  be 
emptied  of  self,  we  must  study  the  history  of  our  fall, 
and  of  our  fallen  race.     If  we  do  this  with  docility  of 
mind,  guided  in  our  researches  by  the  word  of  God, 
we  must  be  convinced  that  "  the  imagination  of  man's 
heart  is  only  evil,  and  that  continually  ;"  that  if  left  to 
ourselves,  there  is  no  extremity  of  sin  to  which  we  will 
not  go ;  and  that  nothing  is  so  sure  of  propitiating  to- 
wards us  the  divine  approbation,  as  to  admit  the  need 
of  divine  grace  to  form  wdthin  us  every  good  thought, 
to  teach  our  lips  every  good  word,  and  to  lead  our  feet 
into  the  way  of  every  good  deed.     "  The  way  of  man 
is  not  in  himself ;  it  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to 


110  MOUNT    SINAI. 

direct  his  steps."  We  are  all  "by  nature  children 
of  wrath."  ''Behold,  we  were  shapen  in  iniquity, 
and  in  sin  did  our  mothers  conceive  us." 

III.  Sinai  proclaims — How  excellent  is  the  law  I 
— Given  in  such  unusually  sublime  circumstances, 
amid  all  the  pomp  and  grandeur  of  heaven's  own  fires 
and  voices,  we  may  surely  infer  that,  in  God's  estima- 
tion, it  is  indeed  most  just  and  good  in  itself,  and  most 
worthy  of  the  love  and  obedience  of  mankind.  Ema- 
nating, as  it  did,  directly  from  Jehovah,  it  bears  the 
impress  of  his  absolute  perfections.  It  is  the  moral 
image  of  God,  and  therefore  we  need  not  be  surprised, 
if  it  shall  enact,  that  not  one  jot  or  tittle  of  it  shall  be 
permitted  to  pass  away.  All  shall  be  fulfilled.  True, 
we  must  make  proper  distinctions  between  what  is 
moral  and  what  is  civil  and  ritual  in  that  law.  Its 
judicial  enactments  and  its  ceremonies  have  passed 
away,  because  they  were  designed  for  the  preparatory 
dispensation.  The  moral  law,  however,  remains  ;  the 
ten  commandments  are  not  obsolete,  and  obsolete  they 
cannot  be  made,  even  by  the  introduction  of  the  gospel. 
Before  its  dawn,,  rites  and  types  fled  away ;  but  not 
the  moral  law.  The  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith 
came  not  "to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil"  the  law  and  the 
prophets.  He  obeyed  the  whole  of  that  law  in  his 
own  life,  not  only  that  he  might  thereby  provide  a 
righteousness  for  his  people,  but  that  he  might  show 
them  an  example:  Hence  the  apostle,  in  vindicating 
the  doctrine  of  justification  by  fJaith  without  the  works 
of  the  law,  exclaims,  "  Do  we  then  make  void  the  law 
through  faith  ?  God  forbid  ;  yea,  we  establish  the 
law ;"  that  is,  by  the  gospel  we  place  on  a  firm  and 
unmovable  basis  the  whole  of  the  ten  commandments ; 
every  one  of  them  remains  in  its  old  place  which  it 
occupied  originally  in  the  hearts  of  our  first  parents  in 


MOUNT    SINAI.  Ill 

Eden,  and  afterwards  on  the  two  tablets  of  stone  given 
to  Moses  on  Sinai. 

If  this  be  so,  well  may  we  inquire,  how  it  is  that 
some  are  so  foolhardy  as  to  point  the  finger  of  scorn 
at  the  fourth  of  these  commandments,  and  demand  its 
erasure  from  the  divine  code  ?  It  appears  to  be  an 
axiom,  that  if  such  a  liberty  can  be  lawfully  taken 
with  the  fourth,  a  similar  liberty  may  be  taken  with 
any  of  the  other  nine.  This  position  is  not  at  all 
weakened  by  the  circumstance  that  the  Christian 
charch  has  moved  the  Sabbath  from  the  last  to  the 
first  day  of  the  week.  We  do  not,  and  never  can, 
properly  argue,  that  the  Lawgiver  himself  is  not  at 
liberty  to  make  any  alterations  that  may  please  him 
on  his  own  laws.  This  he  can  do,  and  this  he  has 
done,  with  respect  to  the  mere  time  of  observing  the 
Sabbath.  He  himself,  after  his  resurrection,  evidently 
changed  the  day.  He  gave  no  countenance  whatever 
to  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  but  uniformly  made  his  appear- 
ance, during  the  forty  days  he  remained  on  the  earth 
previous  to  his  ascension,  on  ''  the  first  day  of  the 
week ;"  hence  it  was  called  by  the  inspired  apostles, 
"  the  Lord's-day ;"  and  hence,  also,  these  holy  men, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  continued  the 
observance  of  the  Sabbath  on  the  first  day  of  every 
week.  If  we  err,  then,  we  err  with  those  whose  testi- 
mony, in  far  weightier  matters,  we  implicitly  trust ; 
even  in  matters  that  lie  at  the  very  foundations  of  our 
belief  as  disciples  of  Christ. 

IV.  Sinai  proclaims — How  imperative  is  man's 
OBEDIENCE  I — Think  of  the  Lawgiver,  and  think  of  the 
law  itself;  then  say,  is  it  safe  to  oppose  the  one  or 
transgress  the  other  ?  God  is  opposed  when  his  law 
is  broken;  and  God  is  as  angry  with  transgressors 
now  as  when  he  rushed,   in   righteous  indignation, 


112  MOUNT    SINAI. 

from  Sinai's  fiery  heights,  and  slew  thousands  of  his 
people.  AH  calamities,  including  ''  the  pestilence 
that  walketh  in  darkness,"  and  "  the  destruction  that 
wasteth  at  noon-day ;"  the  monetary  and  commercial 
panics  by  which  credit  is  paralysed,  trade  ruined,  and 
the  people  reduced  to  starvation ;  are  just  as  clearly 
the  indications  of  his  anger  at  sin,  as  were  the  blood- 
stained swords  of  the  sons  of  Levi  in  the  camp  of 
Israel,  or  the  horrid  and  loathsome  plague  which  sub- 
sequently destroyed  those  who  had  escaped  the  edge 
of  the  sword.  We,  however,  who  live  under  the  light 
of  the  gospel,  have  a  still  more  striking  manifesta- 
tion of  God's  regard  for  his  law,  and  of  his  hatred  for 
sin.  We  have  it,  not  in  the  sharp  swords  of  Levi's 
sons,  but  we  have  it  in  the  unsheathed  sword  of  jus- 
tice when  it  struck  the  man  that  was  God's  fellow, 
and  bathed  itself  in  the  blood  of  "  the  only-begotten  of 
the  Father."  In  that  awful  work  of  the  ninth  hour 
upon  Calvary,  the  ancient  insignia  of  the  law,  when 
promulgated  from  Sinai,  partially  re-appeared.  There, 
when  the  Saviour  was  making  the  atonement,  the 
darkness,  the  lightning,  the  earthquake,  and  other  in- 
dications of  Jehovah's  holiness,  made  the  spectators 
tremble.  The  incarnation — indeed,  the  obedience  and 
death  of  Jesus  Christ — may  all  be  traced  to  God's  love 
of  his  own  law ;  a  law,  injury  to  which  he  could  not 
possibly  overlook  or  pardon,  except  by  such  a  tribute 
to  its  intrinsic  worth,  and  his  inflexible  righteousness, 
as  should  even  more  fully  glorify  it,  than  if  its  trans- 
gressors had  been  allowed  to  perish.  Let  us  never  for- 
get, that  by  this  law  we  are  all  bound,  and  more  bound 
than  ever,  to  abide,  now  that  Christ  has  died,  and,  in 
his  life  and  death,  magnified  and  made  it  honorable. 
While  we  cannot  be  too  thankful,  that  our  obedience 
to  it  is  not  in  any  sense  the  ground  of  our  acceptance 


MOUNT    SINAI.  113 

with  God;  not  in  any  sense  a  title  to  our  pardon  and 
salvation  ;  let  us  never  forget,  that  whenever  that  sal- 
vation is  ours,  we  are  more  than  ever  obligated  to 
"  fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments,"  which  re- 
mains still  the  whole  duty  of  man.  Yea,  we  are  not 
only  more  obligated  than  ever,  but  more  than  ever  dis- 
posed to  do  so ;  for  it  is  not  till  we  are  saved  through 
the  faith  of  Christ  that  we  come  to  love  and  obey  the 
law.  His  love  constrains  us  to  keep  it.  He  died,  and 
"  gave  himself  for  us,  that  he  might  redeem  us  from 
all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto  himself  a  peculiar  people, 
zealous  of  good  works." 

V.   Sinai   proclaims — How  glorious  is    the    con- 
trast   BETWEEN    THE    LAW    AND    THE    GOSPEL  ! Lct    it 

not  be  imagined,  when  we  speak  of  a  contrast,  that 
anything  depreciatory  of  the  law  is  intended.  It  is 
simply  meant  to  express  the  warm  and  grateful  emo- 
tions of  the  believer,  in  hearing  from  the  gospel  that 
there  is  pardon  provided  for  those  who  have  broken 
the  law,  and  lie  under  its  curse ;  that  though  by  the 
works  of  the  law  no  flesh  living  can  now  be  justified, 
yet  is  there  justification  secured  to  every  one  who 
appropriates,  by  faith,  the  righteousness  of  Jesus 
Christ.  It  detracts  not  from  the  intrinsic  excellence 
of  the  law,  that  sinners  now  tremble  before  its  just 
and  inflexible  requirements.  It  has  not  abated,  and 
it  cannot  abate,  one  jot  of  its  precepts.  No  comfort, 
then,  can  be  conveyed  by  the  law  to  the  transgressors. 
It  is  in  this  light,  and  in  this  only,  that  we  wish  to 
view  the  gospel  contrasted  with  the  law,  inasmuch 
as  the  gospel  reveals  deliverance  from  its  penalties, 
provides  grace  to  help  us  in  observing  its  precepts, 
and,  at  the  same  time  that  it  continues  that  law  to 
us  as  a  rule  of  life,  entirely  frees  us  from  it  as  a  cove- 
nant.    Thus  contemplated,  how  glorious  is  the  con- 


114  MOUNT    SINAI. 

trast  between  the  two  I  Let  the  Christian  run  over 
in  his  mind  a  few  of  these  points  of  contrast,  and  he 
cannot  fail  to  see  his  superior  privilege  in  living  under 
the  new  dispensation ;  "for  the  law  came  by  Moses, 
but  grace  and  truth  came  by  Jesus  Christ." 

The  law  came  in  the  midst  of  terror-striking  phe- 
nomena. The  gospel  was  announced  by  an  angel,  in 
the  stillness  of  the  evening  hour,  to  a  few  shepherds, 
on  the  plains  of  Bethlehem.  Clouds  and  darkness 
were  about  the  one ;  light  and  peace  were  about  the 
other.  The  one  made  the  earth  to  shake  for  fear  ;  the 
other  caused  it  to  rejoice  with  exceeding  great  joy. 
The  one  was  delivered  in  fire  and  thunder ;  the  other 
was  heralded,  on  the  day  of  pentecost,  by  the  descent 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  fiery  tongues  on  the  apostles. 
The  fires  of  Sinai  were  accompanied  with  smoke ; 
but  the  fires  of  the  gospel  were  without  smoke,  "  be- 
fitting the  clearness  of  the  new  dispensation,  fire,  not 
in  flashes,  but  in  tongues,  not  to  terrify,  but  to  in- 
struct." The  mount  itself  was  strictly  protected,  and 
it  was  on  peril  of  life  if  it  was  even  touched,  while 
only  to  a  very  few  was  the  honor  given  of  ascending 
so  far  up  its  rugged  sides,  and  only  to  one  was  it  per- 
mitted to  come  near  to  God  on  its  summit.  In  the 
gospel,  however,  no  cordon  of  any  description  forbids 
our  approach  to  Zion ;  not  only  may  the  mount  be 
approached  and  touched,  but  to  the  God  whose  glory 
rests  upon  it,  we  may  all  draw  near;  and  not  only 
may  all  draw  near  to  him,  but  even  he  himself  may 
be  touched.  The  hem  of  his  garment  was  touched 
by  the  diseased  woman,  and  his  very  lips  received  the 
embrace  of  Judas  Iscariot.  The  law  encompasses  it- 
self with  numerous  and  dire  menaces ;  but  the  gospel 
pours  forth  gracious  and  soul-encouraging  promises. 
The  law  says,  "  The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die ;" 


MOUNT    SINAI.  115 

the  gospel  says,  "  Whosoever  belie veth  in  the  Son  of 
God  hath  everlasting  life."  The  law  frowns  upon  the 
sinner  ;  the  gospel  smiles  upon  him.  The  law  strikes, 
the  gospel  binds  up  the  wound.  The  law  shuts  to 
the  door ;  the  gospel  opens  it.  The  law  "  still  has 
within  itself  the  ancient  fires  in  which  it  was  uttered, 
hence  the  flashes  which  it  still  darts  into  guilty  con- 
sciences ;  the  gospel  has  in  it  no  fires,  but  it  sends 
forth  its  light  and  its  truth,  gently  and  softly,  as  the 
orient  rays  move  upon  the  awakening  earth.  The 
one  thunders  wrath ;  the  other  whispers  mercy.  On 
Sinai  the  Lord  God  is  hid  from  the  view  of  Israel  by 
the  dense  smoke  that  enveloped  it ;  but  in  the  gospel, 
he  comes  forth  all  radiant  in  love.  He  is  seen  in 
Christ,  who  is  '^  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the 
express  image  of  his  person."  The  law  entailed  heavy 
and  expensive  ceremonies ;  the  gospel  calls  us  to  a 
yoke  that  is  easy,  and  to  a  burden  that  is  light.  The 
law  was  for  one  nation  ;  the  gospel  is  for  the  whole 
world.  The  law  sought  to  do  its  work  by  fear ;  the 
gospel  by  love.  The  terrors  of  Sinai  wrought  no 
saving  change  on  the  depraved  hearts  of  the  men  erf 
Israel — they  made  a  calf  and  worshipped  it  while  God 
was  speaking ;  but  when  the  still  small  voice  of  the 
gospel  was  heard,  thousands  were  born  in  one  day  to 
the  Lord ;  and  ere  the  end  come,  by  the  power  of 
that  gospel,  "  every  knee  shall  bow,"  and,  "  every 
tongue  confess  that  Jesus  is  Lord,  to  the  glory  of  God 
the  Father." 

VI.  Sinai  proclaims — How  necessary  for  gospel 

HEARERS    TO  WEIGH    WELL    THEIR    RESPONSIBILITIES,  AND 

TO  IMPROVE  THEIR  PRIVILEGES  ! — ^Wliocvcr  studics  the 
advantages  of  the  gospel,  contrasted  with  the  previous 
legal  dispensation,  must  be  satisfied  of  the  increased 
obligations  under  which  Christians  lie,  to  walk  worthy 


116  MOUNT    SINAI. 

of  their  high  vocation.  If  we  have  more  light,  we  are 
expected  to  do  more  work  ;  and  if  we  have  less  exter- 
nal ceremony  to  occupy  the  mind,  we  are  bound  to 
cultivate  more  the  gifts  and  graces  by  which  the  inner 
man  of  the  heart  can  be  elevated  and  enriched.  We 
have  a  completed  revelation,  and  upon  us  have  come 
the  ends  of  the  world.  Let  us  see  to  it,  then,  that 
we  carefully  husband  our  privileges  and  go  on  to  perfec- 
tion. The  present  dispensation  is  not  to  be  set  aside, 
till  the  final  consummation  of  all  things.  We  are,  there- 
fore, called  upon  to  employ  the  providences  and  ordinan- 
ces of  God,  for  the  wider  promotion  of  his  glory  in  it, 
and  our  own  spiritual  improvement.  We  do  not  re- 
quire to  wade  through  clouds  and  shadows,  in  order  to 
realize  the  great  things  of  salvation.  These  are  clearly 
unfolded  to  us  in  the  finished  work  of  Christ.  No 
pompous  ritual  detains  us  from  the  altar  and  sacrifice 
of  atonement.  We  have  neither  to  remain  under  tu- 
tors and  governors,  nor  under  the  law  itself,  as  a  task- 
master to  bring  us  to  Christ.  We  are  placed  by  the 
gospel,  as  it  were,  within  the  holy  of  holies  at  once. 
We  are  all  invited  to  become  kings  and  priests  unto 
God  ;  and  a  new  and  living  way  is  opened  up  for  us 
direct  to  the  Father.  We  have  attained  our  majority, 
and  it  is  consequently  expected  of  us  that  we  mani- 
fest the  manliness,  and  bring  forth  the  matured  fruit, 
of  a  full  Christian  stature.  God  looks  to  us  that  we 
bring  forth  grapes.  It  was  a  serious  thing  to  enjoy 
the  comparatively  superior  light  of  the  Mosaic  econo- 
my. Israel's  responsibilities  were  greatly  increased 
by  the  revelations  of  Sinai ;  and  from  that  day  for- 
ward, to  the  winding  up  of  the  law,  the  people  of 
God  were  more  amenable  to  his  displeasure  when  they 
refused  to  walk  by  his  revealed  will.  But  it  is  a  much 
more  serious  thing  to  live  under  the  wings  of  the  Sun 


MOUNT    SINAI.  117 

of  Righteousness,  because  in  an  emphatic  and  solemn 
sense,  no  more  remains  to  be  done  for  the  church  than 
what  has  been  done. 

If  men,  then,  would  but  reflect  on  what  God  has 
done  for  them,  and  remember  that  he  most  righteously 
demands  of  them  that  they  act  up  to  their  light,  sure- 
ly they  "  would  give  the  most  earnest  heed  to  the 
things  which  they  have  heard,  lest  at  any  time  they 
should  let  them  slip."  Impartial  retributions  will  be 
given  in  the  day  of  judgment.  The  heathen  who  have 
sinned  without  law,  shall  then  be  judged  without  law. 
It  will  then  be  more  tolerable,  not  only  for  the  men  of 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  but  for  the  ancient  Jews  them- 
selves, than  for  us,  to  whom  the  word  of  God's  great 
salvation  has  been  sent,  if  we  despise  it.  This  princi- 
ple of  adjudication  will  be  most  inflexibly  adhered  to, 
whether  we  are  wise  or  whether  we  scorn,  whether  we 
hear  or  whether  we  will  forbear.  Some  idea  of  the 
appalling  concomitants  of  the  last  day's  procedure, 
may  be  formed  from  the  terrific  displays  of  the  divine 
majesty  on  Sinai.  But,  then,  instead  of  God  appear- 
ing in  cloud  and  fire,  he  will  come  in  visible  form,  and 
'^  every  eye  shall  see  him."  Instead  of  the  thousands 
of  Israel,  will  be  gathered  before  him  '^  aU  nations." 
Instead  of  the  promulgation  of  the  law,  the  demand 
will  be,  How  has  that  law  been  obeyed  ?  Instead  of 
the  construction  of  typical  or  gospel  ordinances,  will 
be  the  enthronement  of  the  great  Mediator,  to  test 
every  man's  work.  Not  even  will  the  gospel  tidings 
be  heralded  then,  for  both  the  book  of  the  law  and  the 
book  of  the  gospel  will  be  shut.  The  only  book  to  be 
opened  will  be  that  of  the  Judge's  remembrances ;  and 
instead  of  the  man  Moses  being  summoned  to  stand 
before  the  Judge,  every  man  will  be  called  upon  to 
answer  for  "the  things  done  in  his  body,  according 


118  MdXJNT    SINAI. 

to  that  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad." 
Careless  and  unbelieving  sinners  !  you  will  then  come 
to  all  our  conclusions  anent  your  weighty  responsibili- 
ties. You  will  then  repent,  and  pray,  and  believe  ; 
but  your  faith  will  not  save  you,  your  prayers  will  not 
be  heard,  your  repentance  is  too  late.  The  sword  of 
divine  vengeance  slew  the  men  who  insulted  Jehovah 
at  the  foot  of  Sinai ;  and  then,  that  same  weapon  will 
execute  vengeance  tenfold  more  destructive  on  you, 
who  continue  to  resist  and  rebel  within  the  very  walls 
of  Zion.  Be  wise  in  time  ;  be  instructed  ye  foolish 
ones.  We  beseech  you,  have  done  with  tampering 
with  eternal  interests.  Let  this  world  and  all  its  van- 
ities sink  into  insignificance  in  your  eyes  ;  live  under 
the  powers  of  the  world  to  come.  Make  God  your 
chief  joy,  and  seek  your  happiness  in  his  friendship. 
At  present  you  can  secure  every  blessing,  without  ex- 
ception, for  which  God's  Son  shed  his  blood.  You 
have  not  far  to  travel  for  any  one  of  them,  even  the 
most  precious.  O,  how  near  they  are  to  the  chief  of 
sinners  I  But,  remember,  that  very  nearness  aggra- 
vates your  guilt,  if  you  refuse  to  approach  and  appro- 
priate. You  cannot  reasonably  calculate  on  God's 
treating  with  indifference  what  cost  him  so  much  to 
procure  for  you ;  what  he  has  labored  to  induce  you 
to  accept,  and  what  you  have  recklessly  continued  to 
despise.  By  every  hour  you  live  in  impenitence  and 
unbelief,  you  are  the  more  hardening  your  hearts,  the 
more  increasing  in  amount  and  degree  the  difficulty 
of  your  conversion,  and  the  more  certainly  "  treasur- 
ing up  unto  yourselves  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath." 
You  are  manufacturing  many  and  bitter  elements  of 
wretchedness  for  a  dying  hour,  for  a  sick  bed,  for  a 
final  judgment,  and  for  an  endless  eternity.  Your  re- 
liances on  the  general  mercy  of  God,  at  that  day,  are 


MOUNT    SINAI.  119 

exceedingly  infatuated  and  daring,  for  God  has  fore- 
warned you  that  his  mercy  will  then  be  "  clean  gone 
forever." 

How  blissful,  on  the  other  hand,  shall  their  state  and 
privileges  be,  who,  while  they  obey  the  great  gospel 
commandment,  and  believe  on  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  also  "  walk  in  all  the  commandments 
and  ordinances  of  the  Lord  blameless !"  Even  now, 
i]>  the  very  exercise  of  such  faith,  and  in  these  very 
acts  of  obedience,  they  may  be  said  to  enjoy  the  fore- 
tastes of  the  celestial  felicity  ;  ''  for,"  says  the  apostle 
of  all  such,  "  ye  are  not  come  unto  the  mount  that 
might  be  touched,  and  that  burned  with  fire,  nor  unto 
blackness,  and  darkness,  and  tempest,  and  the  sound 
of  a  trumpet,  and  the  voice  of  words ;  which  voice 
they  that  heard  entreated  that  the  word  should  not  be 
spoken  to  them  any  more:  but  ye  are  come  unto 
Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  company 
of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
first-born,  which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the 
Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, and  to  Jesus  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant, 
and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speaketh  better 
things  than  that  of  Abel." 


MOUNT    HOR, 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  HIGH  PRIEST. 


Aaron,  the  first  high  priest  of  Israel,  was  the  brother 
of  Moses.  He  was  eighty-three  years  of  age  on  the 
return  of  the  latter  to  Egypt  from  Arabia.  One  of 
Moses'  objections  to  undertake  the  leadership  of  the 
Israelites,  was  his  not  "being  eloquent,  but  of  slow 
speech  and  slow  tongue."  The  angel  met  the  objec- 
tion, by  informing  him  that  Aaron  was  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  him  in  that  work,  and  that  he  should  be 
his  "  spokesman."  Accordingly,  from  this  time,  they 
went  hand  in  hand  in  the  work  to  which  they  were 
consecrated.  Though  thus  collegiated,  however,  they 
were  men  of  very  dissimilar  traits  of  character.  Aaron 
had  certainly  many  excellences,  but  Moses  was,  in 
every  point  of  view,  his  superior.  ''  He  does  not 
seem,"  as  one  remarks,  "  so  much  above  the  follies 
and  prejudices  of  his  age.  He  was  more  a  man  of  the 
times,  subject  to  passing  influences  and  prevailing 
tastes.  Moses,  on  the  contrary,  was  one  of  those  rare 
characters  in  history  which  seem  to  live  in  the  past, 
present,  and  future.  Reviewing  the  good  that  has 
been,  understanding  the  full  drift  and  scope  of  the  pre- 
sent, he  at  the  same  time  comprehends  and  lives  in  the 


MOUNT    HOR.  121 

future.  Such  a  man  the  ardor  of  hope  never  beguiles 
into  scorn  of  the  past,  nor  over-reverence  of  the  present 
Like  those  mountain  summits  which  first  catch  the 
sunlight,  he  rises  out  of  the  darkness  and  prejudice 
below  him,  heralding  the  day  that  is  approaching. 
Neither  does  Aaron  seem  borne  up  and  onward  by  so 
lofty  a  feeling  as  he.  With  mind  less  strong,  he 
lacked  also  the  enthusiasm  of  his  brother.  Yet  he 
must  have  possessed  rare  gifts  to  have  been  chosen  the 
companion  and  fellow-laborer  of  Moses  ;  he  must  have 
possessed  an  elevation  and  purity  of  character  far  above 
his  fellows,  to  have  been  chosen  as  the  founder  of  the 
Jewish  priesthood ;  the  first  to  minister  at  the  altar, 
and  to  represent  a  sacerdotal  dynasty  more  glorious 
and  more  immortal  than  the  line  even  of  David,  or  any 
successor  of  kings  that  ever  filled  a  throne."  The 
office  of  high  priest,  to  which  Aaron  was  elevated,  was 
the  first  of  its  kind.  He  was  invested  with  it,  in  due 
solemnity,  immediately  after  the  promulgation  of  the 
law  and  the  consequent  setting  up  of  the  tabernacle. 
The  chief  duties  of  his  office  were,  to  offer  sacrifices 
upon  the  altar,  and  to  intercede  for  the  people.  Its 
importance  lay  in  its  typical  character.  Aaron  was 
the  type  of  the  great  High  Priest  of  our  profession. 
His  annual  sacrifices  of  atonement,  his  intercession, 
and  his  appearance  at  the  specified  periods  before  the 
shechina,  all  prefigured  the  propitiation  and  advocacy 
of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  and  his  appearance  in  the 
presence  of  God  for  us.  Everything,  indeed,  about 
the  ordinance  of  the  priesthood  partook  of  this  typical 
property.  The  laws  that  related  to  the  persons  of  the 
priests,  to  their  priestly  garments,  to  their  consecra* 
tion,  and  to  their  official  duties,  sufficiently  demon- 
strate this.  Exalted,  however,  as  Aaron  was,  in  re- 
spect of  office,  he  was  not  exempt  from  the  infirmities 


122  MOUNT    HOR. 

of  our  nature.  "  At  the  waters  of  strife  he  was  be- 
trayed into  anger,  self-conceit  and  presumption ;  in  the 
matter  of  the  golden  calf  he  is  chargeable  with  timidity 
and  sinful  compliance,  with  unkindness  and  ingrati- 
tude to  one  of  the  best  of  brothers,  with  impiety 
towards  God,  and  with  dissimulation  bordering  on 
falsehood.  Even  after  his  consecration  to  the  priest- 
hood he  exhibited  the  contemptible  passion  of  envy  at, 
and  jealousy  of,  his  brother,  to  whom  he  was  indebted 
for  all  that  eminence  to  which  he  was  himself  raised, 
and  which  he  transmitted  to  his  family."  For  these 
sins,  however,  he  was  corrected  in  the  wilderness. 
That  he  repented  of  them  all  we  cannot  doubt,  and 
that  they  were  all  forgiven  is  certain.  There  were 
some  striking  passages  in  his  life.  Before  we  go  up 
with  him  to  Hor,  to  witness  his  remarkable  decease, 
let  us  simply  glance  at  one  of  these,  which  furnishes  a 
solemn  proof  of  the  divine  displeasure  with  him  for 
these  sins,  and  which  at  the  same  time  supplies  us 
with  some  instructive  reflections. 


PART  I. 

PASSAGE   IN    THE    LIFE   OF    AARON. 

NADAB    AND    ABIHU THEIR    SIN THEIR    AWFUL    DEATH 

REFLECTIONS AAROn's    RESIGNATION. 

Aaron  had  two  sons.  They  were  associated  with 
him  in  the  duties  of  the  high  priest's  office.  Upon  a 
certain  occasion,  the  scripture  narrative  informs  us,* 

♦  Lev.  X.  1—8 


MOUNT    HOR.  123 

these  sons,  "  Nadab  and  Abihu,  took  either  of  them 
his  censer,  and  put  fire  therein,  and  put  incense  there- 
on, and  offered  strange  fire  before  the  Lord.  And  there 
went  out  fire  from  the  Lord,  and  devoured  them ;  and 
they  died  before  the  Lord.  Then  Moses  said  unto 
Aaron,  This  it  is  that  the  Lord  spake,  saying,  I  will 
be  sanctified  in  them  that  come  nigh  me,  and  before 
all  the  people  I  will  be  glorified."  It  appears  from  this 
that  these  two  men,  though  consecrated  to  the  service 
of  God,  were  nat  good  men.  Their  sin  was  this  :  they 
"  offered  strange  fire  before  the  Lord."  God  had  com- 
manded, that  the  incense  to  be  offered  on  the  day  of 
atonement,  should  be  kindled  by  a  portion  of  the  per- 
petual fire  which  had  at  first  descended  from  heaven,  to 
consume  the  earliest  victims  which  Aaron  offered  for 
a  burnt-offering,  and  which  had  been  burning  on  the 
altar  ever  since.  Every  other  kind  of  fire  was  there- 
fore unlawful ;  it  was  strange.  Such  forbidden  fire,  on 
the  occasion  referred  to,  had  been  used  by  Nadab  and 
Abihu  to  kindle  the  incense  which  their  office  obliged 
them  to  burn,  every  evening  and  morning.  Some 
imagine  that  their  crime  was  the  result  of  intemper- 
ance ;  that  they  had  indulged  in  the  "  delicacies  of 
the  sacrifice"  to  a  sinful  excess ;  that  they  had  impi- 
ously dared  to  go  into  the  very  holy  of  holies,  into 
which  none  but  their  father  was  permitted  to  enter,  and 
that  only  once  every  year,  and  that  fire  from  the  glori- 
ous shechina  above  the  mercy-seat  then  instantly  darted 
forth,  and  destroyed  them  ;  hence  it  is  said,  "  They 
died  before  the  Lord."  Their  sin,  in  itself  very  hein- 
ous, was  greatly  aggravated  by  their  official  character 
and  rank.  "  They  had  seen  the  perfect  exactness  with 
which  their  illustrious  uncle  had  constructed  every- 
thing according  to  the  pattern  shown  him  in  the  mount, 
and   the   force  of  his   example  they  resisted.     They 


124  MOUNT    HOR. 

could  not  be  ignorant  of  their  duty,  and  it  was  spe- 
cially incumbent  on  them  to  set  an  example  before  the 
people  of  the  strictest  respect  for  the  sanctity  of  the 
whole  institution." 

This  must  have  been  a  very  heavy  trial  to  their 
aged  father.  The  death  of  children  at  any  period  of 
life  is  to  a  parent  the  most  distressing  of  bereave- 
ments. The  consolations  of  the  world  are  then  use- 
less, and  to  the  hopes  and  precepts  of  the  gospel  we 
can  alone  look  for  support.  When  our  children  die  in 
infancy,  we  have  reason  to  be  comforted  concerning 
their  safety.  They  pass  immediately  into  glory. 
Washed  in  the  blood  of  Christ,  they  are,  at  the  very 
same  moment  that  they  are  torn  from  the  maternal 
bosom,  rejoicing  in  the  bosom  of  the  blessed  Jesus. 
What  mother  would  be  so  cruel  as  to  wish  them  back 
again  ?  I^et  them  abide  in  their  heavenly  refuge  ;  let 
them  remain  in  the  heavenly  choir ;  and  let  their 
sweet  voices  be  attuned  to  the  music  of  the  heavenly 
song !  Yes,  they  are  safe  forever,  and  what  more 
should  we  wish  for  them  ?  They  have  got  all  for  which 
the  Son  of  God  shed  his  blood.  Let  them  enjoy  it. 
Why  should  we  selfishly  wish  to  recall  them  to  this 
scene  of  sin  and  misery  ?  Or,  if  no  such  wish  is  ex- 
pressed, why  should  we  refuse  to  be  comforted  because 
they  are  not  ?  Similar  consolation  awaits  the  parent 
who  commits  to  the  grave  the  dust  of  some  beloved 
son  or  daughter  who  may  have  reached  the  years  of 
maturity,  but  whose  life  had  afforded  unequivocal 
proofs  of  piety.  The  affliction  here  is  no  doubt  heavy, 
inasmuch  as  we  have  to  mourn  over  the  greater  loss 
of  matured  excellences.  Still,  we  do  not  mourn  like 
those  "  who  have  no  hope."  We  saw  them  growing 
in  grace ;  we  marked  those  meek  but  certain  signs 
of  saintship  which  told  of  their  adoption  into  the  fam- 


MOUNT    HOR.  125 

ily  of  God.  We  congratulated  ourselves,  and  our 
Christian  friends  also  congratulated  us,  on  having  such 
children ;  and  we  were  happy  in  the  thought,  that 
their  eternal  interests  were  safe.  And  now  they  are 
gone  before  us.  We  had  hoped  that  they  should  have 
tended  our  dying  pillow,  closed  our  eyes  in  death,  fol- 
lowed our  "  dust  to  the  dust,"  and  perpetuated  to  an- 
other generation  our  good  name  and  services  in  the 
cause  of  God.  But  he  has  willed  it  otherwise,  and 
we  resigned  our  spirit  to  his  will.  We  know  that  he 
had  work  for  them  in  heaven,  else  they  would  not  have 
been  called  up  so  soon  ;  we  therefore  comfort  ourselves 
with  the  conviction  of  their  perfect  happiness  elsewhere, 
and  with  the  hope  of  meeting  them  again  in  that  bet- 
ter land. 

But  who  or  what  shall  comfort  that  parent,  whose 
children  die  in  advanced  life,  without  having  given  any 
evidence  of  a  justified  state  ?  Above  all,  what  shall 
sustain  them  whose  children  have  been  hurried  into 
eternity  by  their  own  sinful  provocations  of  the  Al- 
mighty ?  Surely,  if  ever  sorrow  is  allowable,  it  must 
be  in  such  a  case  as  this ;  if  ever  it  can  be  lawful  to 
refuse  to  be  comforted,  it  must  be  now.  This,  then, 
was  Aaron's  case.  His  sons  were  hopeful  men;  men 
whom  God  had  honored  by  associating  them  with 
their  father  in  sacred  duties  ;  men  that  had  ascended 
Sinai  when  the  glory  of  the  Lord  encompassed  it ;  and 
men  that  had  seen  God  upon  that  dreadful  occasion ; 
for  it  is  written,  "  and  they  saw  the  God  of  Israel." 
No  doubt  the  aged  father  would  be  expecting  that, 
when  he  died,  upon  the  head  of  the  eldest  of  these  his 
mitre  would  be  placed;  and  every  mean  would  be 
employed  to  inform  him  of  the  duties  of  the  high 
priest's  office.  It  is  not  easy,  then,  for  us  to  conceive 
the  extent  or  degree  of  the  affliction  of  that  father, 


126  MOUNT    HOR. 

when,  supposing  this  view  to  be  correct,  he  entered 
within  the  veil,  and  saw  the  dead  bodies  of  his  two 
sons  prostrate  in  the  holy  of  holies  "  before  the  Lord," 
before  the  ark  and  the  mercy-seat.  There  lay  the 
blighted  carcases  of  the  half  of  his  family,  of  his  first 
and  darling  hopes,  cut  off  in  the  prime  of  life,  cut  off 
in  the  moment  of  awful  impiety,  and  by  the  indignant 
fire  of  Jehovah  !  Aaron  gazed  in  the  agony  of  grief 
upon  that  harrowing  sight ;  and,  peradventure,  in 
giving  way  to  that  grief,  had  he  been  permitted,  he 
too  might  have  enkindled  the  fire  of  God  against 
himself  But  as  he  looked,  with  tears,  it  may  be, 
streaming  down  his  breast-plate,  and  with  hands  wrung 
in  the  anguish  of  his  soul,  he  hears  a  footstep,  and 
commands  himself  Moses  draws  near.  The  judg- 
ment of  the  Lord  had  been  hastily  communicated  to 
him,  and  he  came  to  the  sanctuary.  Calm  and  un- 
moved he  addresses  his  stricken  brother,  instructs 
him  to  remain  where  he  is,  and  not  to  touch  the  dead 
bodies,  neither  to  follow  them  out  of  the  tabernacle, 
neither  to  utter  one  word  of  lamentation  over  what 
had  taken  place.  He  is  instantly  obeyed.  The  bodies 
are  raised,  and  carried  away  out  of  the  camp  "  in  the 
coats  o^  the  sons  of  Uzziel,  as  Moses  had  said." 

And  how  did  Aaron  behave  himself  in  such  a  case  ? 
The  Scripture  tells  us  in  most  expressive  language : 
"  And  Aaron  held  his  peace."  That  is,  he  was  dumb  ; 
he  opened  not  his  mouth,  no,  not  so  much  as  to  allow 
the  deep-drawn  sigh  of  paternal  agony  to  escape. 
What  a  sublime  instance  have  we  here,  of  resignation 
to  the  will  of  God  !  We  are  not  at  liberty  to  suppose 
that  his  silence  was  the  result  of  stupor  from  the  sud- 
denness and  awfulness  of  the  stroke ;  much  less  are 
we  to  set  it  down  to  the  want  of  natural  affection,  or 
to  any  indifference  about  their  fate.     He  retained  his 


MOUNT    HOR.  127 

self-possession,  and  was  fully  alive  to  the  appalling 
judgment  which  had  descended  on  them.  He  '*  held 
his  peace,"  and,  obeying  the  commandment  of  God, 
he  went  about  all  the  duties  of  his  office  that  same 
day,  as  if  nothing  strange  had  occurred.  Behold  that 
illustrious  high  priest,  in  these  circumstances,  con- 
ducting the  services  of  the  sanctuary  with  meek  and 
unruffled  composure  !  We  can  scarce  conceive  of  a 
father  restraining  himself  thus.  Amongst  men  in 
general  no  such  magnificent  control  of  the  natural 
affections  is  ever  seen.  Contrariwise,  the  flood-gates 
of  feeling  are  opened,  and  the  passions  rush  forth  in 
unmanageable  confusion.  It  is  painful  to  realize  it ; 
we  refer  to  it  only  to  give  emphasis  to  the  divine  re- 
quirement, that  we  take  care  of  the  heart  in  the  hour 
of  sorrowful  bereavement.  Aaron's  was  a  case  in 
which  no  comfort  could  be  taken,  consequently  no 
comfort  was  tendered  to  him.  It  was  indeed  an  un- 
mitigated affliction,  notwithstanding  he  "  held  his 
peace."  How  are  we  to  account  for  it  ?  It  was  man- 
ifestly the  doing  of  God,  and  it  did  not  therefore  become 
him  even  to  appear  to  be  dissatisfied  ;  it  was  necessary 
for  the  preservation  of  the  sanctity  of  the  divine  ordi- 
nances, which  had  been  profaned  in  the  eyes  of  Israel ; 
and  it  was  the  punishment  due  to  himself  for  his  own 
sin  in  the  making  of  the  golden  calf.  Considerations 
such  as  these  imposed  upon  him  silence.  Remember- 
ing his  past  sins,  he  bowed  his  head  to  the  chastening 
of  the  Lord.  Let  us  go  and  do  likewise.  However 
much  of  human  weakness  Aaron  may  have  discovered 
on  other  occasions,  he  certainly  shines  forth  in  this  as 
a  bright  example  to  us  all.  If  it  would  have  been 
wrong  and  sinful  in  him  to  have  repined  under  the  rod, 
and  such  a  rod,  how  much  more  sinful  is  it  in  us  to 
be  angry,  or  to  act  as  if  we  were  angry,  with  God 


128  MOUNT    HOR. 

when  he  visits  us  with  similar  trials  ?  Let  us  bear  in 
mind  that  we  are  not  chastised  with  the  severity  that 
we  deserve,  and  that  the  sins  of  which  we  have  been 
guilty  are  the  causes  of  many  of  our  severest  tribula- 
tions. Better  far  to  receive  the  punishment  due  to 
these  sins  in  this  life  than  to  enjoy  uninterrupted  com- 
fort here,  and  meet  the  wrath  of  God  where  it  must 
be  endured  forever. 

In  a  very  few  years  after  this,  and  shortly  after  the 
decease  of  his  sister  Miriam,  Aaron  is  himself  sum- 
moned to  lay  down  his  high  office,  and  with  his  office, 
his  life.  Before  adverting  to  the  solemn  scenes  of  that 
occasion,  it  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  pay  a  visit  to 
the  mountain  itself,  where  he  breathed  out  his  spirit. 


PART   II. 

THE   DEATH   OF   THE   HIGH   PRIEST. 

MOUNT  HOR THE  ASCENT  OF  MOSES,  AARON,  AND  ELEAZAR 

DEATH  OF  AARON REFLECTIONS. 

It  is  written,  "And  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses  and 
Aaron  in  Mount  Hor,  by  the  coast  of  the  land  of 
Edom,  saying,  Aaron  shall  be  gathered  unto  his  peo- 
ple. Take  Aaron  and  Eleazar  his  son,  and  bring  them 
up  unto  Mount  Hor  ;  and  strip  Aaron  of  his  garments, 
and  put  them  upon  Eleazar  his  son  ;  and  Aaron  shall 
be  gathered  unto  his  people,  and  shall  die  there.* 

Mount  Hor  is  in  the  same  country  with  Sinai, 
though  not  in  the  same  neighborhood.     It  forms  one 

*  Numbers  xx.  22—29. 


MOUNT    HOR.  129 

of  the  chain  of  mountains  called  in  scripture  *'  the 
mountains  of  Seir,"  which  reach  from  the  bottom  of 
the  Dead  Sea  down  to  the  top  of  the  gulf  of  Akaba. 
Seir  is  in  the  land  of  Idumea,  or  Edom,  to  which  Esau 
retired  from  the  presence  of  his  brother  Jacob.  This 
range  separates  Arabia  Petrea  from  the  eastern  deserts 
of  sand :  they  are  ten  or  twelve  leagues  in  width,  and 
have  a  very  stern  and  dark  appearance.  Lord  Lind- 
say speaks  of  them  as  "the  black  mountains  from 
which  the  Edomites  looked  down."  Another  traveller 
thus  WTites :  "  The  land  of  Idumea  lay  before  me  in 
barrenness  and  desolation  ;  4io  trees  grew  in  the  valley, 
and  no  verdure  on  the  mountain  tops.  All  was  bare, 
dreary,  and  desolate."  Of  this  long  range  of  moun- 
tains, Hor  is  the  tallest  summit,  and  is  a  towering 
landmark  to  the  wanderer  afar  off.  It  is  said  that 
though  Sinai  be  nearly  150  miles  farther  south,  it  can 
be  seen  from  the  top  of  Hor  ;  and  Petra,  the  famous 
capital  of  the  Edomites,  is  supposed  to  have  been  in 
its  immediate  neighborhood.  The  place  where  it  is 
said  Aaron  was  buried  is  at  present  inclosed  by  a 
small  modern  building,  crowned  with  a  cupola,  such 
as  usually  covers  the  remains  of  modern  saints.  It 
now  gets  the  name  of  Jebal  Haroun,  the  mountain  of 
Aaron,  and  is  of  very  difficult  and  steep  ascent. 

Dr.  Wilson  and  his  friends  recently  reached  the 
summit  with  great  difficulty.  He  thus  writes :  "  After 
the  greatness  and  peril  of  the  effort  which  we  had  been 
compelled  to  make,  we  should,  in  ordinary  circum- 
stances, have  been  elated  with  our  success  ;  but  the 
wild  sublimity,  and  grandeur,  and  terror  of  the  new 
and  wonderful  scene  around  and  underneath  us,  over- 
awed our  souls.  We  were  seated  on  the  very  throne, 
as  it  appeared  to  us,  of  Desolation  itself.  Its  own 
metropolis   of  broken,   and   shattered,  and   frowning 

6* 


130  MOUNT    HOR. 

heights — ruin  piled  upon  ruin,  and  dark  and  devouring 
depth  added  to  depth,  lay  on  our  right  hand  and  on  our 
left.  To  the  rising  sun,  mount  Seir,  the  pride  and  the 
glory  of  Edom,  and  the  terror  of  its  adversaries,  lay 
before  us,  smitten  in  its  length  and  breadth  by  the 
hand  of  the  Almighty,  stretched  out  against  it,  barren 
and  most  desolate,  with  its  daughter,  the  '  city  of 
Merook,'  overthrown  and  prostrate  at  its  feet.  To 
the  west  we  had  the  great  and  terrible  wilderness, 
with  its  deserts,  and  pits,  and  droughts,  spread  out  be- 
fore us,  without  any  limit  but  its  own  vastness,  and 
pronounced  by  God  himself  to  be  the  very  '  shadow 
of  death,'  It  was  the  type  and  representative  to  us 
of  that  day  of  the  Lord  in  which  the  heavens  shall  pass 
away  with  a  great  noise,  and  the  elements  melt  with 
fervent  heat,  and  the  earth  also,  and  the  works  that 
are  therein,  shall  be  burned  up." 

The  same  writer  also  mentions  that  he  entered  into 
what  is  reputed  to  be  the  tomb  of  the  high  priest  of 
Israel,  which  he  describes  to  be  nothing  more  ^'  than  a 
small  Mahommedan  mosque  of  no  great  antiquity. 
The  door,  which  is  at  the  west  corner,  is  raised  about 
two  feet,  and  it  is  about  four  feet  high,  exclusive  of 
the  arch,  above  which  is  an  arc  of  a  wall.  The  wall 
is  strongly  built  of  red  sandstone,  about  four  feet  thick. 
The  roof,  which  is  flat,  rests  upon  two  rows  of  double 
arches  of  the  Saracenic  form.  The  area  within  is 
eleven  paces  by  nine  and  a  half.  At  its  north  end 
there  is  a  Mahommedan  sepulchre  of  the  ordinary 
length.  It  has  a  stone  in  front  with  an  Arabic  inscrip- 
tion. Four  little  marble  pillars,  of  unequal  workman- 
ship, were  at  the  end  of  the  tomb."  The  range  of 
Seir,  of  which  Hor  seems  to  be  the  central  elevation, 
is  supposed  to  be  about  3,500  feet  above  the  plains 
beneath.  *'  It  is  of  white  chalk,  and  its  strata,  rising 
#  


MOUNT    HOR.  131 

in  many  places  in  successive  terraces,  have  the  appear- 
ance of  dipping  to  the  east.  It  embosoms  on  three 
sides  the  purple,  and  orange,  and  rose-colored,  sand- 
stone, forming  the  natural  walls  of  Petra,  and  the 
body  and  crags  of  Mount  Hor  itself,  and  extends  to  a 
distance  on  the  west,  strangely  diversified  in  its  hue 
and  shading  by  the  eruptions  of  granite,  porphyry,  and 
basalt." 

In  their  wanderings  towards  Canaan,  the  children 
of  Israel  had  at  length  reached  the  valley  from  which 
this  mountain  rose,  and  they  encamped  before  it. 
There  was  a  reason  for  this.  Their  high  priest  was 
to  die  and  be  buried  on  its  summit.  Neither  Moses 
nor  Aaron,  nor  any  of  those  who  had  rebelled  against 
God's  word  at  the  waters  of  Meribah,  were  to  be  per- 
mitted to  enter  the  promised  land.  The  time  drew 
nigh  for  crossing  the  Jordan  and  taking  possession  of 
the  country,  and  the  leading  actors  in  the  scenes  of  the 
last  forty  years  must  fall,  and  leave  their  carcases  in 
the  wilderness.  Hundreds  and  thousands  had  already 
died ;  very  few,  indeed,  of  that  generation  who  had 
come  up  out  of  Egypt  remained.  The  time  had  come 
when  the  leaders  themselves  must  also  submit  to  the 
stroke  of  death.  Aaron,  by  the  commandment  of  God, 
is  the  first  to  take  his  departure,  and  the  manner  in 
which  this  was  done  is  singularly  affecting.  Moses 
was  instructed  to  take  Aaron  and  his  son  Eleazar,  and 
bring  them  to  the  top  of  Hor  ;  there  to  strip  Aaron  of 
his  official  garments,  and  put  them  upon  his  son,  who 
was  to  succeed  him ;  and  then  he  was  to  die,  and  "  be 
gathered  to  his  people."  All  this  was  done,  and  done, 
too,  in  the  sight  of  the  congregation.  Moses  might 
not  inform  them  that  they  were  never  to  see  their  high 
priest  again  ;  but  in  the  recollection  of  what  they  had 
beheld  on  Sinai,  they  might  expect  that  God  would 


132  MOUNT    HOR. 

again  make  some  imposing  manifestation  of  his  glory. 
They  gazed  upon  the  three  men,  then,  as  they  wended 
their  way  up  the  steep  and  rough  ascent,  and  wondered 
when  and  how  Jehovah  would  appear  ;  but  no  dis- 
play, such  as  that  which  was  made  on  Sinai,  was  made 
on  Hor.  The  scene  itself,  however,  is  really  a  com- 
manding one.  Witness  three  such  men,  in  the  perfect 
knowledge  of  what  was  going  to  happen,  so  cheerfully 
and  promptly  bidding  adieu  for  a  time  to  the  camp, 
one  of  them  never  to  return,  and  that  one  the  high 
priest.  They  have  made  the  ascent,  and  now  they 
stand  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  No  delay 
takes  place.  Moses  at  once  approaches  his  brother, 
who  again  "  held  his  peace."  Without  the  least  oppo- 
sition, he  permits  himself  to  be  stripped  of  his  gorgeous 
robes,  and  though  submissive  not  unconcerned,  wit- 
nesses the  investiture  of  Eleazar.  This  ceremony 
finished,  the  two  brothers,  so  long  associated  in  office, 
and  so  soon  and  so  affectingly  to  be  parted,  await  in 
silence  and  awe  the  approach  of  God. 

What  a  moment  of  suspense  would  this  be  !  It  is 
difficult  to  say  which  of  the  three  would  feel  it  most. 
To  Moses,  his  brother  had  been  of  eminent  service  in 
the  government  of  Israel.  He  might  remember  some 
of  Aaron's  infirmities  ;  but  these  would  instantly  be 
forgotten  in  the  rush  of  other  thoughts,  which  rekin- 
dled from  memory's  lamp  the  lights  that  had  illumined 
the  path  of  the  first  high  priest  of  Israel,  even  from 
the  days  when  together  they  had  confronted  the  mon- 
arch of  Egypt,  to  the  present  moment  of  sublime 
resignation  to  the  will  of  God.  Aaron  again,  now 
looks  down  the  mountain  side  to  the  plain  beneath, 
that  he  might  for  the  last  time  behold  the  goodly  tents 
of  Jacob  and  the  tabernacles  of  Israel.  What  a  tu- 
mult of  thoughts  would  the  view  occasion  I     Having 


MOUNT    HOR.  133 

surveyed,  for  a  time,  this  interesting  spectacle,  he 
turns  to  his  illustrious  brother,  and  fixes  on  him  a  look 
of  inexpressible  emotion.  The  recollection  of  his  fool- 
ish envyings  of  Moses'  distinctions  might  suggest  some 
little  regret.  If  so,  the  feeling  would  soon  pass  away 
in  the  joyous  conviction,  not  only  that  all  had  been 
forgiven  between  them,  but  that  even  with  the  God 
of  Israel  he  was  now  at  peace,  and  would  be  soon  in 
glory. 

The  newly-inaugurated  high  priest,  meanwhile, 
stands  apart,  a  silent  but  not  uninterested  spectator. 
He  loved  and  honored  his  venerable  sire  ;  he  submitted 
to  see  him,  for  the  first  time,  denuded  of  his  pontifical 
robes,  and,  in  amazement,  beheld  them  put  upon  him- 
self The  ceremony  told  him  that  the  death  of  his 
father  was  at  hand,  and  that  he  should  occupy  that 
father's  place  among  the  nobles  of  Israel ;  but  the  sad- 
ness of  the  occasion  interfered  to  repress  the  joys  of 
succession.  It  is  far  from  Eleazar,  however,  to  feel 
or  express  a  murmur.  He,  too,  prepares  his  spirit  to 
witness  in  adoring  acquiescence,  Aaron's  sublime  and 
impressive  decease.  And  now  these  three  men  kneel 
in  prayer ;  they  have  embraced  each  other  for  the  last 
time,  and  stand  together  in  expectation  of  the  summons 
that  was  to  carry  the  devoted  one  into  the  immediate 
presence  of  God.  Moses  and  Eleazar  steadfastly 
contemplate  Aaron,  whose  attitude  and  aspect  bespeak 
the  approaching  awful  solemnity.  As  they  watch  his 
heaven-lit  countenance,  behold,  it  changes  !  The  high 
priest  falls  ;  he  is  dead !  His  soul  is  gathered  to  its 
people ! 

Such  was  the  latter  end  of  Israel's  first  high  priest. 
How  appropriate  such  a  conclusion  to  his  life  !  At  the 
base  of  one  mountain  Aaron  had  yielded  to  human 
weakness,  and  scandalized  the  religion  of  his  fathers, 


134  MOUNT    HOR. 

in  giving  countenance  to  the  golden  calf;  but  here, 
on  the  summit  of  another,  he  manifests  the  power  of 
faith,  and  contributes  largely  to  the  glory  of  Jehovah, 
in  resigning  at  once  office  and  life  at  his  command.  A 
dying  scene  like  this  disposes  us  to  forget,  that  the  in- 
firmities of  our  nature  had  left  their  usual  stains  upon 
his  previous  walk.  Thus,  while  the  best  of  men  often 
come  short,  it  is  sometimes  granted  to  them,  ere  they 
leave  this  world,  to  repair  the  breaches  they  have  made, 
to  redeem  some  of  the  time  they  have  lost,  and  by 
one  dying  scene,  to  do  more  for  the  credit  of  their 
religion  than  all  their  former  good  works  ever  accom- 
plished. 

We  should  learn  from  this,  not  to  pursue  the  falls 
of  good  men  into  scandalous  sins,  with  too  severe  dis- 
cipline. When  evidence  of  repentance  is  manifested, 
when  subsequent  zeal  and  activity  prove  its  genuine- 
ness, their  sins  ought  to  be  forgiven  by  their  fellow- 
believers,  and  they  themselves  ought  to  be  treated  as 
if  no  such  clouds  had  ever  rested  on  their  good  names. 
By  this  tender  and  just  restoration  of  confidence,  we 
not  only  commend  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  as 
breathing  mercy  and  love  amongst  brethren,  but  we 
secure  their  services  more  devotedly  than  ever  to  the 
side  of  truth  and  holiness.  Aaron  was  made  high 
priest  after  his  fall  at  Sinai,  and  Peter  became  not  the 
less  efficient  an  apostle,  that  he  had  repented  and  been 
forgiven  "  the  iniquity  of  his  sin"  in  the  palace  of 
Caiaphas.  It  is  said  that  young  converts  are  generally 
most  zealous  in  propagating  truth.  We  believe  it. 
But,  on  the  same  principle,  it  ought  to  be  conceded 
that  a  repentant  brother,  when  forgiven  alike  by  God 
and  man,  is  almost  certain  to  labor  more  abundantly 
to  recommend  and  diffuse  the  principles  of  our  most 
holy  faith.     David  sinned  heinously  in  the  matter  of 


MOUNT    HOR.  135 

Uriah  the  Hittite ;  but  he  repented  and  was  forgiven. 
What  was  the  consequence  ?  He  was  more  devoted 
than  ever  to  God  and  to  Israel.  How  significant  of 
this  are  some  of  the  clauses  in  the  penitential  psalm 
composed  on  the  occasion  referred  to:  "Restore  unto 
me  the  joy  of  thy  salvation  ;  and  uphold  me  with  thy 
free  Spirit :  then  will  I  teach  transgressors  thy  ways  ; 
and  sinners  shall  be  converted  unto  thee !"  No  doubt 
the  son  of  Jesse  was  as  often  praying  on  his  knees  as 
playing  on  his  harp,  and  the  God  of  Israel  would  be 
ever  uppermost  in  these  prayers.  We  question,  how- 
ever, if  his  earnestness  on  behalf  of  Zion,  previous  to 
his  fall,  was  so  intense  as  it  became  after  his  restora- 
tion. Then,  with  peculiar  emphasis,  he  is  heard  im- 
ploring Jehovah,  ''  Do  good  in  thy  good  pleasure  unto 
Zion :  build  thou  the  walls  of  Jerusalem." 

In  cases  like  David's,  a  constant  and  persevering 
piety  afterwards,  is  perhaps  a  more  striking  illustration 
of  the  power  of  God's  grace  in  the  heart,  than  the  or- 
dinary walk  of  the  man  whose  feet  have  never  slipped. 
In  applying  these  remarks,  however,  to  the  case  of 
office-bearers  in  the  church  of  Christ,  great  care  must 
be  taken,  lest,  in  our  amiable  efforts  after  reconcilia- 
tion, we  rashly  commit  the  real  welfare  of  our  brother, 
and  the  credit  of  religion,  to  be  carried  away  in  the 
stream  of  a  baneful  latitudinarianism.  It  must  be 
allowed  that  what  God  can  do,  without  the  possibility 
of  injury  to  his  own  cause  or  our  interests,  ought  not  to 
be  ventured  upon  by  us,  until  we  have  well  examined, 
not  only  the  spirit  of  the  penitent,  but  our  own  spirits 
in  their  proposals  to  pardon  and  restore  him.  But 
prosecuting  these  views  under  the  control  of  wise,  con- 
siderate, and  Christian  principles,  we  are  almost  sure 
of  protecting  the  credit  of  our  religion,  while  we  ex- 
tend forbearance  and  privilege  to  the  sorrowing  and  re- 


136  MOUNT    IIOR. 

formed  transgressor.  In  such  cases,  we  may,  in  their 
issue,  have  the  splendors  of  Hor  to  set  over  against  the 
humiliations  of  Sinai. 

We  cannot  descend  from  this  mountain  top,  with- 
out one  glance  at  another  decease  of  a  still  more  sol- 
emn and  overawing  character.  Aaron  was  but  the 
type  of  a  more  enduring  High  Priest,  even  Jesus 
Christ.  How  singular  the  contrast  between  the  one 
scene  on  Hor  and  the  other  on  Calvary !  Aaron's  last 
moments  were  passed  in  tranquillity,  honor,  and  hope  ; 
the  blessed  Jesus  died  in  the  midst  of  execrations  and 
agony.  The  "  type"  disappeared  between  two  of  his 
nearest  and  dearest  relations;  the  " substance "  gave 
up  the  ghost  between  two  notorious  criminals !  But 
when  faith  studies  these  two  deaths,  it  quickly  dis- 
cerns the  superiority,  in  every  respect,  of  the  anti- 
typical  scene.  Aaron  was  here  stripped  of  his  robes 
and  denuded  of  his  office.  His  eyes,  ere  they  closed 
in  death,  saw  his  successor.  His  decease,  in  itself, 
had  not  even  the  typical  properties  of  those  sacrifices 
of  bulls  and  goats  over  which  he  had  often  presided. 
It  was  in  no  sense  even  a  shadow  of  "  the  decease 
which  was  accomplished  at  Jerusalem."  His  body 
was  buried  where  it  fell,  and  there  its  dust  may  still 
repose.  The  character  he  sustained  to  the  church, 
and  the  office  he  held,  together  with  the  whole  econo- 
my to  which  they  appertained,  have  long  ere  this 
passed  away,  and  are  never  to  re-appear.  The  reverse 
of  all  this  holds  true  of  our  Lord.  When  he  died,  he 
secured  for  himself  from  that  moment  the  everlasting 
possession  of  the  offices  of  prophet,  priest,  and  king  to 
his  church.  His  death  was  the  atonement  for  sin. 
In  it  he  laid  the  foundation  of  that  heavenly  Jerusa- 
lem whose  palaces  and  towers  are  to  endure  forever. 
When  he  rose  from  the  dead  (for  God  did  not  "  suffer 


MOUNT    HOR.  137 

his  Holy  One  to  see  corruption,")  he  "ascended  up 
on  high,"  entered  into  the  holy  of  holies,  and  hath 
forever  ''  sat  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father." 
"  Jesus  was  made  a  surety  of  a  better  covenant.  And 
they  truly  were  many  priests,  because  they  were  not 
suffered  to  continue  by  reason  of  death  :  but  this  man, 
because  he  continueth  ever,  hath  an  unchangeable 
priesthood.  Wherefore  he  is  able  to  save  them  to  the 
uttermost  that  come  unto  God  by  him,  seeing  he  ever 
liveth  to  make  intercession  for  them."  In  this  divine 
arrangement  believers  may  have  perfect  confidence. 
Their  High  Priest  is  with  God.  His  sacrifice  has 
been  accepted  once  for  all.  His  advocacy  is  ever  prev- 
alent. His  sympathy  is  always  certain.  And  their 
future  admission  into  his  blessed  presence  is  as  sure 
as  "  the  word  of  the  oath"  can  make  it. 


PART   III. 

THE    LESSONS    FROM    HOR. 

DEATH — ITS  CERTAINTY GOOD  MEN  ONLY  DIE  SAFELY THE 

VALUE  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

The  affecting  scene  we  have  just  contemplated  re- 
mmds  us, — 

I.  That  we  must  all  die  ! — This  is  perhaps  the 
only  truth  connected  with  revelation  that  infidelity  it- 
self cannot,  and  does  not  dispute.  He  must  be  insane 
who  would  do  so.  Notwithstanding,  it  is  a  truth 
which  is  deplorably  disregarded  by  most  men.  They 
live  as  if  it  were  not  true  that  they  must  all  die.     To 


138  MOUNT    HOR. 

the  universal  belief  that  it  is  the  common  lot,  may  be 
traced  its  failure  in  producing  appropriate  seriousness. 
This  makes  it  all  the  more  necessary  that  we  now 
and  then  fix  attention  upon  the  subject,  so  as  to  be- 
come "  wise,  and  understand  this,  and  consider  our 
latter  end."  If,  then,  we  animadvert  for  a  little  on 
death  as  certain,  and  certain  to  all,  it  is  not  because 
man  requires  to  have  it  proved  to  him  that  he  is  mor- 
tal, but  because  he  needs  to  have  his  mind  deeply 
filled  with  such  a  conviction.  To  produce  and  main- 
tain it  is  indeed  a  service  to  humanity  ;  for  O,  how 
many  adverse  influences  are  at  work,  to  lull  the  dying 
creature  to  sleep,  and  to  make  him  live  as  if  he  were 
never  to  die;  as  if  all  were  mortal  except  himself! 
The  world,  the  devil,  and  the  flesh  combine  to  harden 
his  mind  to  the  force  of  a  truth  which,  notwithstand- 
ing, he  sees  verified  every  day  in  the  passing  funeral. 
Such,  indeed,  is  the  miserable  indifference  that  pre- 
vails among  men  upon  this  subject,  that  we  are  almost 
justified  in  taking  it  for  granted,  that  they  do  not  be- 
lieve that  they  are  to  fall  under  its  stroke,  and  in  pro- 
ceeding to  reason  with  them  accordingly. 

And  what  shall  we  say  to  such  ?  We  tell  them  to 
consider  this :  that  ever  since  the  fall  of  Adam  death 
has  invaded  the  world  and  converted  it  into  one  im- 
mense grave,  into  which  he  has,  with  contemptuous 
indiscrimination,  cast  the  generations  that  are  gone 
before.  That  grave  still  yawns,  and  ever  opens  its 
mouth  insatiably  for  more.  "  Our  fathers,  where  are 
they  ?  and  the  prophets,  do  they  live  forever  ?"  Our 
fathers  sleep  in  dust,  and  the  prophets'  harps  are  long 
since  hung  upon  the  willows.  And  you,  too,  who  now 
ponder  these  things,  must  follow  in  that  solemn  pro- 
cession to  the  tomb.  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust 
shalt  thou  return."     Your  bodies  are  so  constructed 


MOUNT    HOR.  139 

that  dissolution  would  come  though  they  were  not  ex- 
posed to  the  accidents  of  life  and  actual  disease.  Sin 
now  "  reigns  in  your  mortal  bodies."  It  lives  in  them 
at  the  end,  as  well  as  at  the  beginning  of  a  long  life. 
At  some  period  the  wages  of  sin  must  be  paid.  We 
must  die,  and  become  the  food  of  worms,  the  victims 
of  corruption,  and  kindred  with  the  clay.  This  is  the 
end  of  it,  whatever  may  have  been  the  character  of 
life's  progress ;  whether  joyous  or  grievous ;  whether 
spent  in  the  giddy  dances  of  worldly  honor  and  pros- 
perity, or  in  the  joyless  regions  of  poverty  and  wretch- 
edness ;  whether  useful  or  useless ;  whether  devoted 
to  God  or  devoted  to  the  devil ;  this  is  the  end  of  it — 
all  die,  and  all  must  die.  There  is  no  escaping ;  from 
this  war  there  is  no  discharge.  Out  of  the  many 
generations  of  men  that  have  appeared  and  disap- 
peared, two  only  have  been  exempted  from  its  stroke ; 
but,  excepting  those  that  shall  be  found  alive  at  the 
last  day,  we  have  no  reason  to  expect  that  any  others 
shall  be  similarly  privileged.  Yes,  the  gates  of  death 
all  must,  and  all  do  approach.  There  monarchs  lay 
aside  crowns  and  sceptres,  doff  gold  and  purple,  abdi- 
cate kingdoms,  and  enter  the  grave  as  naked  as  when 
they  entered  the  world.  There  the  squalid  and  starv- 
ing wretch,  whose  whole  existence  has  been  pensioned 
on  the  coldness  of  charity,  finds  a  last  relief;  he  lays 
down  his  rags,  his  burdens,  his  needs,  and  suffers 
earthly  pain  no  more.  There  philosophy  is  arrested 
in  the  midst  of  its  most  sublime  and  successful  re- 
searches, and  receives  a  sure  quietus  to  all  its  careful 
and  perplexing  thoughts.  There  beauty  in  her  smiles, 
and  deformity  in  her  tears,  lie  down  together,  soon  to 
be  commingled  in  indistinguishable  dust.  There  the 
sinner  who  has  lived  far  from  God,  and  the  saint  who 
has  walked  with  God — strange  encounter  ! — meet  to 


140  MOUNT    HOR. 

tread  the  same  dismal  path,  and  ford  the  same  swel- 
ling Jordan.  No  exception  breaks  the  dull  monotony ; 
all  are  promiscuously  hurried  off  the  stage  of  life,  and 
laid  without  order  in  the  gloomy  mausoleum.  Vain 
and  inconstant  world !  Fleeting  and  transient  life ! 
when  will  the  sons  of  men  learn  to  think  of  thee  as 
they  ought,  to  prize  their  opportunities  as  they  should, 
and  to  draw  their  hearts  from  thee  as  they  must? 
How  appropriate  to  this  subject  are  the  weighty 
words  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh :  "  O,  eloquent,  just, 
and  mighty  death  !  whom  none  could  advise  thou  hast 
persuaded ;  what  none  hath  dared  thou  hast  done ; 
and,  where  all  would  have  flattered,  thou  only  hast 
cast  out  of  the  world  and  despised.  Thou  hast  drawn 
together  all  the  far-stretched  greatness,  all  the  pride, 
cruelty  and  ambition  of  man,  and  covered  it  all  over 
with  these  two  little  words,  '  Hic  jacet.'  " 

II.  Death  is  stingless  only  to  good  men  ! — To 
those  who  die  in  their  sins,  death  is  unquestionably  an 
immeasurable  evil.  Any  conceivable  state  of  misery 
on  this  side  of  the  grave  is  better  far  to  them  than  that 
into  which,  after  death,  they  immediately  pass.  Here 
there  is  always  some  modicum  of  earthly  rest  to  miti- 
gate the  concomitant  ills  of  man's  weary  pilgrimage. 
His  condition,  whatever  it  be,  can  never  be  considered 
one  of  absolute  despair.  Though  he  be  reduced  to  the 
very  dust,  still  he  has  life ;  and  while  there  is  life, 
there  is  hope.  He  gets  pity,  too  ;  the  pity  of  the  kind 
and  compassionate  ;  and  when  there  is  pity,  there  may 
come  relief  At  the  very  worst,  his  woes  are  tolerable, 
and  possibly  they  may  be  of  short  duration.  It  is 
true,  alas,  too  true  !  that  in  the  midst  of  the  devasta- 
tions of  adversity,  some  reckon  life  a  curse,  and,  to  get 
quit  of  ills  they  have,  they  madly  flee  "  to  others  that 
they  know  not  of"     Is  not  such  suicide  the  worst  form 


MOUNT    HOR.  141 

of  insanity  ?  for  nothing  can  be  conceived  more  unrea- 
sonable than  to  risk  the  eternal  loss  of  the  soul,  merely 
to  escape  a  passing  hurricane,  or,  it  may  be,  an  im- 
aginary evil. 

But  in  no  case  can  death,  to  a  good  man,  be  set 
down  as  a  loss.  It  is,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  a 
gain,  a  great  and  unspeakable  gain.  He  could  not 
have  bettered  his  earthly  condition  by  one  hour's  addi- 
tional existence.  His  sins  were  pardoned  at  conver- 
sion ;  his  nature  has  been  meetened  for  heaven  in 
sanctification ;  and  his  evidences  of  being  ''  in  Christ 
Jesus"  have  become  so  bright,  by  long  and  intimate 
communion  with  him,  that  death  comes  with  a  most 
welcome  invitation  to  him,  to  go  up  and  be  glorified. 
No  really  justified  man  needs  time  in  order  to  die  in 
safety.  He  may  require  time  to  die  more  comfortably 
to  himself,  and  perhaps  more  usefully  for  others  ;  but 
as  for  his  safety,  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  him  at 
what  hour  of  the  day  or  night  he  takes  his  leave  of 
the  world.  Death  to  him  is  stingless ;  that  is,  the 
sting  which  makes  death  fatal  to  others,  is  in  his  case 
extracted. 

An  apostle  says,  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin ;"  a 
saying  which  on  many  a  death-bed  has  been  awfully 
illustrated.  But  when  death  comes  to  a  believer,  it 
comes  without  sin ;  and  if  it  comes  without  sin,  it 
comes  without  danger  to  him.  And  what  is  meant  by 
death  coming  without  sin?  It  means  that,  to  a  good 
man,  death  comes  having  not  the  curse  of  sin  in  it ;  that 
curse  is  exhausted  to  every  believer  in  the  death  of 
Christ.  It  is  written  that  the  "  strength  of  sin  is  the 
law ;"  that  is,  the  strength  of  the  sting  of  death  is  the 
law.  And  how  does  the  law  strengthen  this  sting  of 
death  ?  It  does  so  by  coming  to  the  soul  that  lies  in 
sin,  and  demanding  an  obedience  to  its  precepts  which 


142  MOUNT    HOR. 

has  never  been  rendered,  and  a  submission  to  its 
penalty  which  must  now  be  made.  How  dreadful  is 
the  sense  of  sin  in  such  circumstances  I  When  the 
unpardoned  sinner  realizes  death,  is  it  to  be  wondered 
at,  if  he  be  abandoned  to  despair  ?  Death  comes  to 
him  with  its  sting,  which  is  always  fatal.  An  angry 
law,  a  law  which  has  been  recklessly  violated,  it  may 
be  during  a  long  life,  and  in  defiance  of  favorable  pro- 
vidences and  gracious  ordinances,  comes  up  to  him, 
seizes  him  by  the  throat,  and  says,  "  Pay  me  that 
thou  owest."  Oh,  how  does  such  a  demand  dart  a 
sting  into  a  guilty  conscience  !  The  sinner  is  a  spirit- 
ual bankrupt ;  he  has  nothing  to  pay ;  he  has  no 
righteousness  of  his  own;  and  he  has  no  interest  in 
the  righteousness  of  any  other.  What  then  must  he 
do  ?  The  necessity  is  awful !  it  is  appalling !  but  it 
cannot  be  avoided  now ;  he  must  pay  what  he  can, 
and  that  is,  the  penalty — eternal  death  I 

Now,  when  this  law  comes  to  a  dying  Christian,  it 
imparts  no  strength  to  sin,  either  as  to  his  state  or  as 
to  his  experience,  and  this  especially  as  to  his  state ; 
for  when  it  makes  its  demand  of  him,  "  pay  me  that 
thou  owest,"  the  believer  is  quite  ready  with  his  pay- 
ment ;  he  has  had  it  lying  beside  him  probably  for  a 
long,  long  time ;  in  fact,  he  has  just  been  waiting  for 
this  call  of  the  law,  and  now  he  offers  it  not  only  the 
principal,  but  an  unspeakably  valuable  amount  of  in- 
terest. He  offers  to  its  rules  the  obedience  of  their 
own  Maker,  the  obedience  of  Jesus  Christ;  and  he 
offers  to  its  penalty  the  sufferings  and  death  of  the 
Son  of  God  in  the  nature  of  man.  The  law,  of  course, 
is  well  pleased  with  such  payment ;  for  it  is  thus  mag- 
nified, and  made  far  more  honorable  than  if  the  crea- 
ture himself  had  obeyed  it,  or  had  been  left  under  the 
infliction  of  its  wrath  forever.     This  sufliioiently  ac- 


MOUNT   HOR.  143 

counts  for  the  peaceful  death  of  a  saint.  He  feels  no 
sting  in  it.  He  is  a  justified  man  through  the  impu- 
tation of  Christ's  righteousness.  He  knows  this,  he 
believes  this ;  and  he  dies  singing  these  beautiful 
words,  "  O  Lord,  I  will  praise  thee ;  for  though  thou 
wast  angry  with  me,  thine  anger  is  turned  away,  and 
thou  comfortest  me  !"  Yes,  die  when  that  man  may, 
he  is  quite  safe ;  for  there  is  no  more  "  condemnation 
to  them  which  are  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  walk  not  after 
the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit,  For  the  law  of  the 
Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath  made  them  free 
from  the  law  of  sin  and  death." 

Such  considerations  ought  greatly  to  enhance  to  us 
the  gospel  of  God.  That  we  are  all  to  die  is  true ; 
but,  apart  from  the  consolatory  revelations  of  the  Bi- 
ble, this  truth  would  make  life  insupportable.  With 
what  tranquillity,  however,  can  we  now  proceed  to  the 
grave  !  We  know  that  there  is  a  happy  land  beyond 
it,  into  which  every  Christian  is  immediately  received ; 
that  this  inheritance  has  been  purchased  for  us  by  the 
precious  blood  of  Christ ;  and  that  by  the  influences 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  we  are  certain  to  be  made  fully 
meet  for  it,  whenever  God  may  call  us  hence.  For 
this  cheering  and  invigorating  knowledge  we  are  in- 
debted to  the  gospel ;  not  to  reason  nor  to  philosophy, 
but  to  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  ever-blessed  God. 
Dearly,  then,  should  we  prize  it,  very  grateful  should 
we  be  for  it,  and  very  diligently  should  we  study  it. 
That  gospel  is  the  best  counsellor,  even  for  this  world, 
inasmuch  as  it  enables  us  "  to  exercise  ourselves  unto 
godliness,"  which  godliness,  the  apostle  says,  "  is  profit- 
able unto  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life  that 
now  is,"  as  well  as  "of  that  which  is  to  come."  For 
temporal  ends,  then,  alone,  it  is  invaluable.  But 
there  is  no  term  of   human  existence  so  richly  to  be 


144  MOUNT    HOR. 

prized  by  unbelieving  man,  as  its  closing  periods.  Too 
often  is  the  great  work  of  preparation  for  eternity  de- 
layed till  then,  when  into  a  few  days  or  hours  it  is 
attempted  to  crush  that  which  ought  to  have  been  the 
business  of  a  lifetime.  The  gospel,  then,  even  at  that 
late  hour,  is  still  at  hand,  offering  its  services,  and 
proving  that,  as  the  friend  of  sinners,  it  is  faithful  even 
unto  death. 

To  the  believer,  who  has  been  considering  and  pre- 
paring for  his  latter  end,  it  provides  light  for  the  dark 
valley,  the  staff  of  divine  promise  for  the  tottering  and 
feeble  step,  the  influence  of  hope  for  a  sure  and  stead- 
fast anchor  to  the  soul,  and  the  foretaste  of  heaven  as 
an  earnest  of  approaching  glory.  For  the  unbeliever, 
also,  who  has  sinfully  procrastinated  till  now  the  work 
which  was  given  him  to  do,  this  gospel,  if  he  wishes 
to  be  saved,  is,  and  must  be,  his  last  resort.  Health, 
wealth,  fame,  and  friends,  may  all  have  abandoned 
him,  so  that  he  finds  himself,  in  the  hour  and  agony 
of  death,  with  no  other  possession.  All  that  he  praised 
and  flattered  have  fled,  and  that  alone  which  he 
despised  remains.  It  is  true  that,  for  the  most  part, 
death-bed  repentances  are  too  late.  The  gospel,  so 
long  refused,  has  ceased  to  influence  the  heart ;  and 
the  Spirit  of  God,  so  long  resisted,  has  ceased  to  strive 
with  the  sinner.  We  are  not,  however,  on  this  ac- 
count to  undervalue  the  gospel  as  the  best  treasure  of 
man.  If  he  has  so  stupefied  himself,  and  so  offended 
God  by  his  sin,  as  to  be  unfitted  now  for  taking  ad- 
vantage of  mercy  when  it  is  offered  to  him,  as  it  cer- 
tainly is,  even  at  the  very  close  of  his  life,  we  are  not 
on  that  account  to  defraud  the  gospel  of  the  credit 
which  is  due  to  its  long-suffering  and  kindness.  Its 
salvation  is  still  proclaimed  to  the  dying  man ;  its 
entreaties  to  repent  and  believe  are  still  urged ;  its 


MOUNT    HOR.  145 

proffers  of  forgiveness  and  grace  are  made  as  sincerely 
as  ever ;  and  if  now  accepted  of,  even  this  the  last 
would  become  the  day  of  his  salvation.  We  claim 
all  this  for  the  gospel  message,  and  we  dare  not  claim 
less,  though  in  doing  so  it  is  certain  that  we  fearfully 
increase  the  responsibilities  of  the  gospel  despiser ;  and 
truly  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  any  condition  more 
deplorable  than  his  who,  in  dying,  perishes  at  the  door 
of  escape  from  divine  wrath.  Our  position  has,  not- 
withstanding, powerful  supports  in  those  instances  in 
which,  at  the  latest  periods  of  life,  sinners  have  re- 
pented, believed,  and  been  saved.  In  every  case,  in- 
deed, in  which  any  sinner  did  then  and  there  believe 
in  the  gospel,  it  was  found  that  mercy  was  not  far 
from  any  one  of  them.  But,  alas  !  how  few  there  be 
who,  thus  late  in  the  day,  make  their  escape !  We 
have  only  one  example  recorded  in  the  Bible,  that  of 
the  thief  on  the  cross  ;  and  that  one,  as  has  been  said, 
that  all  may  hope — but  one,  that  none  may  presume. 
From  all  which  it  must  follow,  that  while  the  good 
man  only  dies  safely,  it  is  not  the  fault  of  the  gospel 
if  even  the  impenitent,  when  death  is  at  hand,  dies 
and  is  lost.  The  gospel  also  is  at  hand ;  the  physician 
is  at  his  bedside,  the  remedy  is  available,  the  well  of 
salvation  is  opened,  and  all  that  is  needed  is  the  sin- 
cere reception  of  the  remedy,  and  the  drinking  of  the 
water,  before  the  last  breath  is  drawn.  If  that  breath 
is  drawn  before  the  water  is  drawn  from  that  well,  the 
soul  perishes  ;  but,  if  the  pitcher  is  let  down  in  time, 
and  but  one  drop  is  tasted,  the  soul  lives,  and  lives  for- 
ever. Such  are  the  might  and  mercy  of  the  gospel. 
What  a  precious  boon  is  it  to  him  "who  is  of  few  days, 
and  full  of  trouble  ;"  who  is  of  many  sins  and  full  of 
guilt;  who  is  at  the  door  of  judgment,  and  whose 
everlasting  state  is  fixed  irrevocably  at  death !     Let 

7 


146  MOUNT    HOR. 

US  prize  the  ''good  tidings  of  great  joy;"  and,  while 
we  anticipate  for  ourselves  a  happy  and  safe  death, 
like  that  of  Israel's  high  priest,  let  us  never  forget 
that  we  must  also,  like  him,  be  devoted  during  life  to 
the  service  of  God,  and  ready,  at  the  end,  to  lay  our- 
selves down  to  die  at  his  bidding,  without  either  cloud 
or  peril  upon  our  souls.  ''  Mark  the  perfect  man,  and 
behold  the  upright :  for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace." 


MOUNT    PISGAH, 


THE    DEATH   OF   THE    LAWGIVER. 


The  chequered  character  of  life  is  proverbial.  All 
believe  in  the  existence,  and  most  men  drink  deeply 
out  of  the  cup  of  its  endless  and  trying  vicissitudes. 
How  rarely,  indeed,  do  we  find  an  instance  of  uninter- 
rupted and  tranquil  prosperity  !  Nor  is  it  considered, 
in  the  present  state  of  man,  to  be  at  all  favorable  to 
his  improvement,  that  he  should  escape  the  rough  and 
angular  pieces  of  the  road,  and  slide  smoothly  into  the 
vale  of  years.  He  who  has  to  fight  the  battle  of  life, 
now  subject  to  its  reverses,  and  now  fortunate  in  its 
conquests,  is  the  more  likely  to  be  sober  in  success, 
and  resigned  under  discipline.  He  is  the  man  in 
whom  the  better  principles  of  our  nature,  as  these 
have  been  renewed  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  are  certain 
to  become  both  athletic  and  fruitful.  *'  Born  to  trouble, 
as  the  sparks  fly  upward,"  and  enduring  that  trouble 
in  the  assured  confidence  that  "  all  things  work  to- 
gether for  good  to  them  that  love  God,"  he  evidently 
"  grows  in  grace,"  and  is  every  day  made  more  and 
more  "  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light." 
Thus,  that  smgularly  mournful  condition  into  which 
sin  has  brought  mankind,  and  over  which  unsanctified 


148  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

nature  is  ready  to  poar  such  pathetic  lamentations,  is 
converted,  by  the  God  of  all  grace,  into  a  merciful 
system  of  means  for  the  reproduction  of  piety  and  the 
restoration  of  peace.  It  is  true,  the  benefit  of  this 
arrangement  is  felt  only  by  those  who  are  suitably 
exercised  by  their  afflictions.  Good  men  alone  can 
say  that  it  has  been  "  good"  for  them  that  they  have 
been  afflicted ;  because,  in  such  men  alone,  godly  sor- 
row "  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness." 
To  the  believer,  however,  this  truth  is  the  sovereign 
catholicon  for  the  ills,  and  the  kindly  comforter  amid 
the  chequered  scenes  of  his  pilgrimage.  It  may,  in- 
deed, be,  after  all,  a  "day  of  small  things"  to  him, 
compared  with  the  "  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory"  which  is  to  be  the  consummation  of 
the  whole  matter;  still  he  is  far  from  "despising"  it. 
To  him  such  a  truth  gives  a  view  of  life  on  earth, 
which  imparts  somewhat  of  the  tranquillity  of  the 
future  rest  to  present  conflict,  somewhat  of  the  charms 
of  Eden  to  the  desert  where  he  dwells,  and  not  a  few 
of  the  choicest  treasures  of  unveiled  communion  above 
to  the  partial  and  obscured  manifestations  of  Christian 
fellowship  below. 

But  while  life  is  chequered,  and  has  its  appropriate 
consolations  to  the  believer,  it  ought  to  be,  much 
oftener  than  it  is,  a  subject  before  our  minds,  that 
death  also  is  chequered ;  death  also  has  its  vicissi- 
tudes, and  its  kindred  terrors  or  supports  in  the  midst 
of  their  endurance.  As  there  is  no  monotony  in  life, 
neither  is  there  in  death.  The  varieties  of  death  are 
as  interesting,  and  perhaps  more  inexplicable,  than 
those  of  life.  Certainly  all  do  not  live  alike ;  equally 
certain  it  is,  that  all  do  not  die  alike.  The  inequali- 
ties in  both  may  be  nearly  proportioned ;  the  common 
saying  holding  for  the  most  part  true,  that  as  is  the 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  149 

life,  so  is  the  death.  If  the  life  has  been  thoughtless 
and  godless,  and  racked  and  riven  with  sordid  cares, 
so  also  is  the  death.  The  ruling  passions  retain  their 
strength,  and  ofttimes  have  that  strength  increased,  in 
death.  Hence  the  varieties  of  an  unbelievinsf  career 
are  almost  sure  to  have  their  counterparts  deeply 
characterizing  its  termination.  If  the  life  had  its 
enjoyments  by  excluding  the  thoughts  of  death,  the 
death  has  its  alarms  by  including  the  memorials  of 
life.  So  also,  in  the  other  and  better  case,  when  the 
Christian's  hour  for  death  arrives,  he  sees  it  reflecting 
the  beauties  of  his  life,  and  endorsing  aU  the  promises 
of  glory  and  immortality,  on  which  he  has  founded  his 
hope.  In  his  passage  through  life,  he  never  accounted 
it  else  than  "  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ;"  con- 
sequently, now  that  death  is  to  terminate  life,  he  be- 
lieves that  he  is  certain,  in  the  encounter  with  the 
dark  reality  itself,  to  be  "  more  than  a  conqueror, 
through  him  that  loved  him."  Death,  during  life,  he 
never  feared  nor  forgot;  and  life,  at  death,  he  now 
remembers  and  reviews  without  alarm. 

This  is  one  view  of  the  subject;  but  there  is  an- 
other. Often  in  death  there  is  an  apparent  contradic- 
tion of  things  spiritual.  There  are  diversities  in  the 
experiences  of  the  dying,  which,  in  the  apprehension 
of  faith,  may  be  explainable,  but  of  which  mere  reason 
can  form  no  consistent  ideas.  We  refer  to  the  abso- 
lute indifference  of  some,  the  seeming  composure  of 
others,  and  the  positively  pleasant  hopes  of  not  a  few 
unregenerated  persons,  when  they  lie  down  to  die.  It 
does  not  seem  to  make  much  difference  in  these  cases, 
whether  the  individuals  may  have  been  of  what  we 
term  amiable  dispositions,  like  to  the  young  ruler 
whom  Jesus  loved,  or  of  flagrantly  immoral  habits; 


150  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

when  they  come  to  a  death-bed  they  are  singularly 
cool,  and  utter  some  strange  words  about  their  com- 
forts and  hopes,  which  certainly  do  not  deceive  those 
who  have  known  them,  but  which,  nevertheless,  are 
not  a  little  startling.  Even  Asaph,  in  endeavoring  to 
account  for  this,  confessed  it  to  be  ''too  painful  to 
him."  He  says,  in  the  73rd  Psalm,  concerning  the 
wicked,  "  there  are  no  bands  in  their  death,  but  their 
strength  is  firm.  They  are  not  in  trouble  as  other 
men ;  neither  are  they  plagued  like  other  men."  The 
mystery,  however,  was  solved  to  him  when  he  went 
into  the  sanctuary  of  God  ;  "  then  he  understood  their 
end ;"  then  he  saw  that  they  were  cast  "  down  into 
destruction,"  that  they  were  "  as  a  dream  when  one 
awaketh ;"  and  that  "  the  Lord,  when  he  awoke,  de- 
spised their  image."  Thus  ought  we  to  establish  our 
confidence  in  the  safety  of  the  righteous  in  death. 
Often  they  have  "  bands,"  and  their  strength  is  "  weak- 
ened in  the  way;"  they  are  "in  trouble,"  and  some- 
times are  "plagued;"  but  how  different  their  "end" 
from  that  of  the  dreamy  sinner!  "Blessed  are  the 
dead  who  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth  :  Yea,  saith 
the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors ;  and 
their  works  do  follow  them." 

Among  the  varieties  of  death-bed  scenes,  however, 
it  is  in  the  main  true,  that  the  generality  of  the 
righteous  die  happily.  A  few  only  may  die  in  the 
full  assurance  of  hope ;  but  most  die  in  peace,  and  all 
of  them  "  die  in  the  Lord."  Hence,  we  have  many 
testimonies  from  the  saints,  at  that  solemn  period,  to 
the  faithfulness  of  God,  and  to  the  consolations  of  the 
gospel.  It  is,  indeed,  a  splendid  tribute  to  the  truth 
of  our  holy  faith,  that  no  genuine  disciple  of  its  divine 
Author  ever  stultified  his  profession,  by  abandoning 
his  creed  in  the  hour  of  death.     Many  of  the  votaries 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  151 

of  superstition,  and  not  a  few  of  the  dupes  of  infidelity, 
have  broken  down  under  its  terrors,  and  held  up  their 
life-time  professions  to  contempt.  But  from  the  be- 
ginning of  the  world  has  it  never  been  known,  that  a 
Christian,  in  the  possession  of  consciousness,  let  go  his 
hold  of  the  cross  when  on  the  eve  of  his  soul's  call  to 
judgment.  The  authentic  biographies  of  saints  are, 
therefore,  greatly  to  be  prized,  as  every  believer  who 
dies  with  the  hope  of  life  and  immortality  contributes 
another  evidence  to  the  truth  of  his  religion.  When 
the  individual  has  been  eminent  for  piety  and  useful- 
ness, it  is  of  more  importance  that  his  latter  end  be 
peaceful,  and  that  its  character  should  be  kept  no 
secret.  The  saints  encourage  one  another  to  live  well, 
but  they  should  also  encourage  one  another  to  die 
well.  Such  encouragement  becomes  peculiarly  pleas- 
ing when  we  know  how  bravely  those  have  died  who 
have  occupied  official  positions  in  "the  house  of  the 
Lord."  These  were  our  pastors,  and  we  naturally 
desire  to  know  how  the  principles  which  they  enforced 
upon  us,  supported  themselves  "just  in  the  last  dis- 
tressing hour."  Dying  as  they  for  the  most  part  do, 
not  only  are  mourners  comforted,  but  some  gainsayers 
may  be  silenced,  and  not  a  few  waverers  confirmed. 

For  such  reasons,  we  should  be  thankful  students 
of  scriptural  biography.  The  lives  of  such  men  as 
Aaron  and  Moses  are  richly  instructive  ;  but  equally 
so  are  their  deaths.  It  has  been  to  the  profiting  and 
encouragement  of  many,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  has  held 
back  the  curtain  from  their  dying  scenes,  and  privi- 
leged us  with  a  view  of  their  peaceful  "  latter  end." 
We  have  already  witnessed  the  impressive  death  of 
the  high  priest,  and  we  are  now  to  contemplate  that 
of  the  lawgiver.  As  Aaron  ascended  to  heaven  from 
the  sununit  of  a  mountain  not  far  from  Canaan,  so 


152  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

Moses  rises  to  his  ''  rest"  from  the  top  of  another,  still 
nearer  to  the  land  of  promise.  The  whole  scene  is 
thus  described  by  Joshua  the  son  of  Nun,  at  the  close 
of  the  book  of  Deuteronomy  : — "  The  Lord  spake  unto 
Moses,  saying.  Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain  Abarim, 
unto  mount  Nebo,  which  is  in  the  land  of  Moab,  that 
is  over  against  Jericho,  and  behold  the  land  of  Canaan, 
which  I  give  unto  the  children  of  Israel  for  a  posses- 
sion ;  and  die  in  the  mount  whither  thou  goest  up, 
and  be  gathered  unto  thy  people."  Joshua  adds, 
"  and  Moses  went  up  from  the  plains  of  Moab  unto 
the  mountain  of  Nebo,  to  the  top  of  Pisgah,"  and 
"died  there."*  This  affecting  death  we  are  now 
briefly  to  contemplate. 


PART  I. 

THE    DEATH    OF    THE    LAWGIVER. 

ABARIM NEBO PISGAH MOSEs'    LAST     WORDS HIS     DYING 

SCENE HIS    BURIAL LAMENTATION    OF   ISRAEL. 

The  inspired  narrative  mentions  no  less  than  three 
names,  as  significant  of  the  mountain  on  which  Moses 
was  to  die.  A  simple  explanation  will  make  this  in- 
telligible. The  range  of  mountains,  on  the  summit 
of  one  of  which  this  great  man  gave  up  the  ghost,  is 
called  Abarim.  Mount  Nebo  is  the  name  of  one  of 
that  range,  and  Mount  Pisgah  was  the  most  elevated 
and  commanding  peak  of  Nebo.  The  range  of  Abarim 
extended  southward  from  the  land  of  Canaan  towards 

*  Deut.  xxxiv. 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  153 

the  river  Arnon,  and  possibly  to  the  range  called  Seir, 
of  which  Hor  is  one.  Nebo  is  usually  identified  with 
Mount  Attarous,  about  ten  miles  north  of  the  Arnon, 
and  nearly  the  same  distance  east  from  the  north- 
eastern extremity  of  the  Dead  Sea.  It  is  a  barren 
mountain,  which  offers  nothing  remarkable.  It  is, 
however,  the  most  lofty  elevation  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  its  summit  is  now  distinguished  by  a  large  wild 
pistachio  tree,  overshadowing  a  heap  of  stones.  In  the 
text  we  are  told  that  Nebo  was  over  against  Jericho, 
w^hich  makes  it  evident,  that  from  its  summit  the 
promised  land  could  easily  be  viewed. 

Having,  then,  conducted  the  Israelites  to  this  place, 
and  the  time  of  their  crossing  the  Jordan  to  take  pos- 
session of  Canaan  being  now  at  hand,  Moses  must 
retire  from  the  high  and  honored  position  which  for 
forty  years  he  had  occupied  ;  for  God  had  told  him 
that  not  even  he  should  be  permitted  to  enter  Canaan ; 
but  though  he  shall  not  enter  it,  he  shall  have  a  view 
of  the  country.  He  is  commanded  to  go  up  to  the 
summit  of  Nebo  and  view  the  land  ;  and  after  having 
seen  it  in  the  distance,  hfe  must  die.  Before  ascend- 
ing he  must  needs  give  Israel  his  blessing.  He,  there- 
fore, issues  his  latest  summons  to  the  congregation, 
and  lo,  all  Israel  draw  near  to  hear  their  king  !  They 
listen  attentively  to  his  dying  words.  He  addresses 
each  tribe  by  name,  like  good  old  Jacob,  and  having 
blessed  all  the  people,  he  closes  his  long  and  brilhant 
ministry  with  these  beautiful  and  remarkable  words : 
*'  There  is  none  like  unto  the  God  of  Jeshurun,  who 
rideth  upon  the-  heaven  in  thy  help,  and  in  his  excel- 
lency on  the  sky.  The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and 
underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms ;  and  he  shall 
thrust  out  the  enemy  from  before  thee,  and  shall  say, 
Destroy  them.     Israel  then  shall  dwell  in  safety  alone : 

7* 


154  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

the  fountain  of  Jacob  shall  be  upon  a  land  of  corn  and 
wine  ;  also  his  heavens  shall  drop  down  dew.  Happy- 
art  thou,  O  Israel  :  who  is  like  unto  thee,  O  people 
saved  by  the  Lord,  the  shield  of  thy  help,  and  who  is 
the  sword  of  thy  excellency  !  and  thine  enemies  shall 
be  found  liars  unto  thee  ;  and  thou  shalt  tread  upon 
their  high  places." 

"  Noble  language  !  noble  heart !"  exclaims  a  beau- 
tiful writer :  "  carried  away  in  the  contemplation  of 
his  children's  happiness,  he  bursts  forth  into  exclama- 
tions of  joy  in  the  moment  of  his  deepest  distress. 
But  did  that  manly  voice  falter,  and  that  stern  lip 
quiver,  as  he  advanced  to  bid  them  his  last  adieu  ? 
For  a  moment,  perhaps,  the  rising  emotions  checked 
his  utterance.  They  had  been  the  companions  of  his 
toil,  the  objects  of  his  deepest  solicitude.  A  common 
suffering,  a  common  fate,  had  bound  them  to  him  by 
a  thousand  ties.  He  looked  back  on  the  desert:  it 
was  past.  He  looked  forward  to  Canaan :  it  was  near. 
He  turned  to  the  people  :  they  were  weeping.  Ho 
cast  his  eye  up  to  Nebo,  and  he  knew  he  must  die. 
Although  no  complaint  escaped  his  lips,  no  regriet  fell 
from  his  tongue,  a  deeper  paleness  was  on  his  cheek, 
and  a  sterner  strife  in  his  heart,  than  he  had  ever  felt 
before.  Though  outwardly  calm,-  his  stern  nature 
shook  for  a  moment  like  a  cedar  in  a  tempest,  and  then 
the  struggle  was  over.  His  farewell  was  echoed  in 
melancholy  tones  from  lip  to  lip  through  the  vast  host, 
as  he  turned  to  ascend  the  mountain.  As  he  advanced 
from  rock  to  rock,  the  sobbing  of  the  multitude  that 
followed  after  tore  his  heart-strings,  like  the  cry  of  a 
child  for  its  parents,  and  it  was  long  before  he  dare 
trust  himself  to  turn  and  look  below.  But  at  length 
he  paused  on  a  high  rock,  and  gazed  a  moment  on  the 
scene  at  his  feet.     There  were  the  white  tents  of  Jacob, 


MOUNT    I'lSGAH.  155 

gtttering  in  the  sunlight,  and  there  the  dark  mass  of 
Israel's  host,  as  they  stood  and  watched  the  form  of 
their  departing  leader.  Those  tents  had  become  fa- 
miliar to  him  as  household  scenes  ;  and  as  he  gazed  on 
them,  now  far,  far  beneath  him,  and  saw  the  cloud 
overshadowing  the  mysterious  ark,  a  sigh  of  unutter- 
able sadness  escaped  him.  He  thought  of  the  bones 
of  Joseph  he  had  carried  forty  years,  that  were  to  rest 
with  his  descendants,  while  he  was  to  be  left  alone 
amid  the  mountains.  Again  he  turned  to  the  ascent, 
and  soon  a  rock  shut  him  from  view,  and  he  passed  on 
alone  to  the  summit."* 

The  lawgiver  at  length  reaches  the  top  of  Pisgah, 
and  from  that  spot  God  showed  to  him  the  fertile  land 
which  he  had  sworn  "  unto  Abraham,  unto  Isaac,  unto 
Jacob,  saying,  I  will  give  it  unto  thy  seed."  What  a 
splendid  scene  would  open  to  his  view  !  He  saw  before 
him  "  all  the  land  of  Gilead,  unto  Dan,  and  all  Naph- 
tali,  and  the  land  of  Ephraim,  and  Manasseh,.and  all 
the  land  of  Judah,  unto  the  utmost  sea,  and  the  south, 
and  the  plain  of  the  valley  of  Jericho,  the  city  of 
palm-trees,  unto  Zoar."  How  long  he  was  permitted 
to  feast  his  eyes  with  this  lovely  landscape  cannot  be 
ascertained,  but  the  curtain  of  death  at  last  was 
dropped,  and,  to  use  again  the  glowing  description  of 
another,  •'  the  scene  vanished  from  his  sight ;  and,  with 
the  rock  for  his  couch,  and  the  blue  sky  for  his  cover- 
ing, he  lay  down  to  die.  O,  who  can  tell  what  the 
mighty  lawgiver  felt,  left  in  that  dreadful  hour  alone ! 
The  mystery  of  mysteries  was  to  be  passed.  No  friend 
was  beside  his  couch  to  soothe  him,  no  voice  to  encour- 
age him,  in  that  last,  darkest  of  all  human  struggles. 
No  one  was  with  hun  but  God ;  and  though  with  one 
hand  he  smote  him,  with  the  other  he  held  his  dying 

*  Headlev. 


156  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

head.  How  long  was  he  dying  ?  God  alone  can  an- 
swer. What  words  did  his  quivering  lips  last  utter  ? 
God  alone  knows.  Was  his  last  prayer  for  Israel  ? 
his  last  words  of  the  Crucified  ?  From  that  lonely  rock 
did  a  shout  go  up,  "  O  death  where  is  thy  sting  ?  O 
grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?"  Of  that  last  scene  and 
its  changes  we  Ivnow  nothing ;  but  when  it  was  over 
Moses  lay  a  corpse  on  the  mountain  top ;  and  Gcxi 
buried  him.  There  he  slept  alone.  The  mountain 
cloud  which  might  hang  over  him  was  his  only  shroud 
and  the  thunder  of  the  passing  storm  was  his  only 
dirge.  There  he  slept  while  centuries  rolled  by,  his 
grave  unknown  and  unvisited,  until  at  length  he  is 
seen  standing  on  mount  Tabor,  with  Christ,  in  the 
transfiguration.  Over  Jordan  at  last !  In  Canaan  at 
last  1"=^ 

Such  was  the  striking  and  appropriate  termination 
of  a  most  remarkable  life.  He  who  for  forty  years 
lived  alone  in  the  solitude  of  Horeb,  and  walked  there 
with  God  while  tending  the  flocks  of  an  idolatrous 
priest,  was  thus  brought  to  close  his  pilgrimage  as  he 
had  commenced  it.  Alone  on  Horeb  he  had  met  the 
Angel  of  the  Covenant,  and  received  from  him  his 
commission  to  deliver  Israel  from  bondage,  and  guide 
them  to  Canaan.  That  commission  he  had  honorably 
fulfilled.  Israel  were  on  the  borders  of  the  promised 
land  ;  and  now  again,  alone,  on  Pisgah,  that  Angel 
returns  to  relieve  his  servant  of  office,  and  crown  him 
with  "  the  recompense  of  reward."  With  fear  and 
trembling  he  had  fled  from  the  palace  of  Thermutis 
into  the  wilderness  of  Sinai ;  but  "  with  gladness 
and  rejoicing"  does  he  ascend  from  Abarim,  and  "  en- 
ter into  the  king's  palace,"  from  which  he  shall  go 
no  more  out.     What  a  transition  was  this  !     Even  to 

*  Headley. 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  157 

Moses,  who  expected  then  and  there  to  die,  it  must 
have  been  a  marvellous  surprise.  And  surely  if  any 
regret  was  felt  because  he  was  not  to  cross  that 
stream,  and  set  his  foot  on  that  fertile  land,  it  would 
instantly  be  quenched  when  he  found  his  emancipated 
spirit  amid  the  light,  the  love,  and  the  glories  of  Para- 
dise. 

"  So  Moses,  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  died  there,  in 
the  land  of  Moab,  according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord. 
And  he  buried  him  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of  Moab, 
over  against  Beth-peor :  but  no  man  knoweth  of  his 
sepulchre  unto  this  day.  And  Moses  was  an  hundred 
and  twenty  years  old  when  he  died  :  his  eye  was  not 
dim,  nor  his  natural  force  abated.  And  the  children 
of  Israel  wept  for  Moses  in  the  plains  of  Moab  thirty 
days  :  so  the  days  of  weeping  and  mourning  for  Moses 
were  ended." 


PART  IL 

LESSONS    FROM    PISGAH. 

GOOD    MEN  SHOULD  NOT  FEAR  DEATH DUTY  TO    PREPARE    FOR 

IT THE     WAY    NOT    TO    FEAR    DEATH    IS    TO    LIVE     IN     THE 

HOt>E    OF    HEAVEN. 

Pisgah  and  Hor  preach  to  us  upon  the  same  theme : 
their  subject  is  death.  Let  us  receive,  then,  these 
lessons  from  the  death  of  Moses,  the  servant  of  the 
Lord : — 

I.  Death  ought  not  to  be  feared  by  believers  ! 

We  are  prepared  to  admit  that  death  is  the  most 


158  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

solemn  of  all  the  events  that  fill  up  human  history. 
It  ought  to  be  regarded  with  the  most  profound  seri- 
ousness. To  think  or  speak  of  it  lightly,  tells  of  la- 
mentable levity  of  mind.  We  cannot  over-estimate 
the  importance  of  that  one  step  which  is  succeeded  by 
the  unalterable  decision  of  our  eternal  state.  Still, 
we  confidently  repeat,  good  men  ought  not  to  antici- 
pate it  with  sinful  fears. 

To  fear  death  implies,  on  the  part  of  believers,  that 
they  regard  it  as  an  evil  thing,  which  to  them  it  is 
not ;  or  it  implies  that  they  have  some  misgivings, 
either  about  their  readiness  for  it,  or  the  solidity  of  the 
Rock  on  which  their  trust  is  fixed.  We  have  already 
endeavored  to  demonstrate  that  to  good  men  it  is  not 
an  evil  in  any  sense  of  the  word ;  it  is  stingless  to  the 
saint.  It  cannot  take  from  him  any  one  good  thing 
he  has,  or  ever  had,  or  can  wish  for  ;  it  cannot  add  to 
any  trial  or  affliction  to  which  he  has  been  exposed ; 
it  can  make  no  cloud  darker,  no  tear  bitterer,  no  bur- 
den heavier,  no  difficulty  more  perplexing,  and  no 
anxious  anticipations  more  saddening.  If,  then,  it 
can  do  none  of  these  things,  a  great  cause  of  fear  is 
removed.  These  things  are  inclusive  of  most  of  the 
ills  that  human  nature  dreads.  But  this  is  far  from 
being  all  the  truth.  Death  is  a  positive  advantage, 
inasmuch  as  it  perfects  the  felicity  of  the  soul.  It 
extinguishes  instantly  all  the  fires  of  affliction,  levels 
all  the  barriers  in  the  way  to  God,  hides  the  happy 
spirit  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  and  puts  it  into  the 
complete  possession  and  enraptured  enjoyment  of  all 
that  life  for  which  the  Saviour  "  became  obedient  unto 
death."  On  these  grounds  it  is  unreasonable  as  well 
as  unchristian  to  be  afraid  of  death. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  fear  of  death  arises  from 
a  sense  of  unpreparcdness  to  meet  it,  we  must  at  onco 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  159 

resolve  fear  on  such  a  ground  into  unbelief.  There 
are  two  ways  in  which  a  good  man  may  be  said  to  be 
ready  for  death  ;  the  one  is  by  actual  justification,  or 
by  having  the  guilt  of  his  sin  completely  and  forever 
cancelled  through  personal  union  with  the  Saviour 
"  as  the  Lord  his  righteousness  ;  "  the  other  way  is  by 
the  brightening  of  his  hopes  and  the  maturing  of  his 
convictions,  that  he  is  one  of  the  people  of  God,  and 
that,  consequently,  for  him  to  die  is  to  "  depart  and  be 
with  Christ,  which  is  far  better."  Now,  it  is  evident 
that  his  fears  are  groundless,  are  utterly  unbelieving 
fears,  if  they  have  anything  to  do  with  the  first  of 
these — that  is,  if  they  refer  to  the  completeness  of  his 
justified  condition.  As  far  as  that  goes,  he  is  always 
ready  for  death ;  yea,  he  might  die  in  the  very  act  of 
justification  and  be  in  Paradise  the  next  moment,  as 
was  the  penitent  and  pardoned  thief  on  the  cross. 
Eternal  life  is  unalterably  and  inalienably  secured  to 
the  man  whose  transgressions  are  forgiven.  He  may 
die  then,  or  he  may  live  for  a  century  afterwards,  he  is 
equally  secure.  Death  to  him  at  any  time  would  be 
gain,  great  gain ;  for  a  man  is  and  can  be  justified 
only  once,  and  that  forever.  "  The  gifts  and  callings 
of  God  are  without  repentance."  "  The  path  of  the 
just,  (or  justified,)  is  as  the  shining  light,  that  shineth 
more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day." 

If,  again,  the  saint  fears  death  from  lack  of  proper 
evidence  that  he  is  in  such  a  justified  state,  then  it 
may  be  proper  enough,  nay,  it  is  his  duty,  to  be  con- 
cerned about  it,  and  that  for  several  reasons.  Why, 
for  instance,  is  he  in  doubt  upon  a  matter  of  such 
importance  ?  Was  he  not  commanded  to  make  his 
"  calling  and  election  sure  ?  "  And  are  not  all  his  un- 
certainties on  this  weighty  question  caused  by  his 
own  remissness  in  self-examination  ?  or,  peradventure, 


160  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

by  his  allowing  his  mind  to  be  too  much  in  the  habit 
of  conforming  itself  to  this  world  ?  No  man,  whatever 
be  his  attainments  otherwise  in  the  experience  of 
religion,  can  realize  death  without  fear,  who  does  not 
realize  God  without  fear.  And  why  should  not  every 
child  of  God  think  of  him  confidently,  and  long  to  be 
with  him  eternally  ?  God  is  love  !  God  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  reconciling  all  such  to  himself.  The  act,  then, 
which  certifies  the  reconciliation,  and  brings  the  father 
and  the  child  into  actual  and  eternal  embrace,  ought 
rather  to  be  hailed  with  hosannahs  than  regarded  with 
apprehensiveness.  Besides,  it  ought  not  to  be  forgot- 
ten that  good  men  are  to  have  grace  given  them,  such 
as  is  not  given  till  the  hour  of  death — grace  for  that  pe- 
culiar work.  Hence,  they  may  then  discover  that  they 
are  not  only  justified,  but  far  advanced,  in  point  of  feel- 
ing and  desire,  for  entrance  into  the  glorified  state. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  advert  at  any  length  to 
what  was  alluded  to  as  the  remaining  ground  of  fear ; 
namely,  the  solidity  of  the  foundation  on  "which  the 
hopes  of  the  believer  rest.  Ah  I  never  were  fears  more 
baseless,  as  never  was  foundation  more  secure  and 
immovable.  Our  God  is  a  rock,  and  his  work  is  per- 
fect. Our  God  is  true,  and  his  words  are  righteous 
altogether.  Our  God  is  faithful,  and  his  promises 
shall  be  all  literally  accomplished.  Our  God  is  mercy, 
and  all  his  compassions  are  kindled  together  when  his 
people  are  passing  through  the  waters,  that  he  may 
"  uphold  them  with  the  right  hand  of  his  righteousness." 
He  may  sometimes,  in  their  lifetime,  be  provoked  to 
leave  them  for  a  little,  but  he  never  does  this  in  death. 
All  the  past  is  forgotten  now,  except  "the  kindness  of 
their  youth,  the  love  of  their  espousals,  when  they 
went  after  him  in  the  wilderness,  in  a  land  that  was 
not  sown."    Not  to  fear  death,  then,  is  a  duty.    '*  Fear 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  161 

thou  not,"  says  God  ;  "for  I  am  with  thee  :  be  not  dis- 
mayed ;  for  I  am  thy  God :  I  will  strengthen  thee ; 
yea,  I  will  help  thee ;  yea,  I  will  uphold  thee  with  the 
right  hand  of  my  righteousness."  "  Be  not  afraid," 
says  Christ,  "  it  is  I." 

Not  to  fear  death  is  the  attainment  of  eminent 
piety.  "  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,"  says  David,  "  I  will  fear  no 
evil :  for  thou  art  with  me ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff 
they  comfort  me."  "  I  am  persuaded,"  says  Paul, 
"  that  neither  death,  nor  life — nor  any  other  creature, 
shall  be  able  to  separate  me  from  the  love  of  God." 
To  a  similar  effect  have  been  the  dying  attestations 
of  many  illustrious  Christians.  "  Let  him  fear  death," 
said  an  ancient  father,  Cyprian,  "  who  must  pass  from 
this  death  to  the  second  death."  "  I  am  not  afraid  to 
look  death  in  the  face,"  said  Dodd.  "  I  can  say. 
Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  Death  cannot  hurt  me  I" 
"O,  when  will  this  good  hour  come?"  exclaimed 
Robert  Bolton.  "  When  shall  I  be  dissolved  ?  When 
shall  I  be  with  Christ  ?"  "  Here,"  said  the  pious 
Halybm'ton,  "  is  a  demonstration  of  the  reality  of  reli- 
gion, that  I,  a  poor,  weak,  timorous  man,  as  much 
afraid  of  death  as  any,  am  now  enabled,  by  the  power 
of  grace,  composedly  with  joy  to  look  death  in  the 
face."  And,  "  as  for  my  death,"  said  another  dying 
Christian,  "  I  bless  God  I  feel  and  find  so  much  inward 
joy  and  comfort  to  my  soul,  that  if  it  were  put  to  my 
choice  whether  I  would  live  or  die,  I  would  a  thousand 
times  rather  choose  death  than  life,  if  it  may  stand 
with  the  holy  will  of  God."  If  God  be  so  very  present 
a  help  in  all  times  of  trouble,  that  be,  far  from  him  to 
deny  us  his  presence  in  the  hour  of  our  departure. 
Be  not  afraid  to  die,  then,  O  men  of  God !  O  daughters 
of  Jerusalem  I     All  is  safe.     The  blood  of  the  ever- 


162  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

lasting  covenant  is  upon  you.  Jesus  is  your  advocate 
with  the  Father  ;  and  him  the  Father  heareth  always. 
He  has  brought  forth  the  best  robe  and  put  it  on  you ; 
yea,  you  are  united  to  his  person  who  is  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  life ;  you  are  bone  of  his  bone,  and  flesh 
of  his  flesh.  You  are,  therefore,  locked  in  his  em- 
brace. At  death  you  are  on  the  very  threshold  of 
glory ;  and  that  very  moment  you  cross  it,  you  are 
with  the  Lord. 

II.  Death   should  be   anticipated  and    prepared 
FOR. — ^Whatever  be  the  aspect  which  death  presents 
to  us,  it  is  our  duty  and  interest  to  make  ready  for  it. 
If  it  appears  to  us  as  an  evil  we  should  dread,  then 
the  sooner  we  are  prepared  to  meet  it  the  better,  see- 
ing there  is  no  escape  from  it.     And  if  it  appears  to 
us  as  a  blessing  we  should  long  for,  then  it  is  incum- 
bent on  us  to  meditate  on  that  manner  of  spirit  with 
which  we  ought  to  hail  it  when  it  comes.     As  it  is 
rather  the  death  of  good  men,  such  as  were  Moses 
and  Aaron,  that  raises  these  reflections,  we  would 
press  this  duty  upon  you  that  believe.    It  is  no  reason 
that  you  should  be  careless  about  death,  because  you 
should  be  fearless  of  death.     You  admit  that  it  is  a 
blessed  thing  to  die,  and  be  happy  in  heaven.     Well 
then,  be  prepared  to  die  with  the  law  of  gratitude  in 
your  heart,  and  the  song  of  praise  on  your  lips.     We 
must  trace  the  uninteresting,  and,  we  had  almost  said, 
unedifying  character  of  many  a  good  man's  death-bed, 
to  his  allowing  death  to  take  him  in  some  measure  by 
surprise.     It  cannot  be  expected  that  he  is,  at  that 
solemn  hour,  to  manifest  "joy  and  peace  in  believing,'* 
if  he  is  busied  with,  it  may  be  a  necessary  but  a  some- 
what out  of  season,  and  out  of  place  preparation  for 
his  dissolution.      How  can  he  welcome  death  with 
spiritual  tranquillity  if,  for  instance,  he  has  on  hand  a 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  163 

great  deal  both  of  secular  and  religious  matters  to  be 
settled  ?  This  is  indeed  an  unseasonable  mixture  of 
things  which,  at  such  an  hour,  ought  never  to  be  com- 
mingled I  Their  worldly  business,  as  far  as  is  prac- 
ticable, such  as  the  disposal  of  property,  and  other 
family  arrangements,  ought  to  have  no  place  in  the 
exercises  of  dying  saints. 

Neither  ought  a  good  man  to  have  his  evidences  of 
saintship  to  search  for  at  such  a  time.  When  he 
comes  to  die  he  should  have  nothing  else  to  do ;  and 
if  he  had  nothing  else  to  do,  he  would  in  every  case 
die,  if  not  triumphing,  at  least  trusting;  his  soul 
would  pass  away  in  the  midst  of  light.  So  died  Aaron 
and  Moses.  They  knew  that  death  was  near,  they 
realized  it,  they  made  preparation  for  it,  and  when  it 
came,  it  was  just  what  they  expected  ;  they  would 
have  been  disappointed  if  death  had  not  come.  They 
went  about  their  own  death  as  you  see  men  going 
about  their  common  business.  Aaron  ascends  Hor, 
with  his  brother  and  son,  to  die  there,  and  knowing 
that  he  was  to  die  there ;  but  no  man  in  the  camp 
could  have  gathered  from  his  bearing  that  he  was  go- 
ing upon  such  an  errand.  He  allows  his  high  priest's 
robes  to  be  taken  from  him ;  he  sees  his  successor  in 
office  invested  with  them ;  he  is  perfectly  willing  to 
leave  his  sacred  duties  at  the  altar,  and  to  commit 
them  now  to  Eleazar ;  he  has  no  paltry  envy  of  his 
son  stepping  into  his  place,  and  receiving  the  rever- 
ence of  the  nation  and  the  gratitude  of  the  church, 
which  he  had  assisted  in  bringing  forth  from  Egypt 
and  organizing  in  the  desert.  He  knows  that  in  a  few 
moments  those  goodly  tents  of  Israel,  upon  which  he 
looks  down  for  the  last  time,  will  soon  be  filled  with 
the  voice  of  lamentation  and  weeping  for  him,  and 
that  never  again  is  he  to  plead  for  them  before  the 


164  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

mercy-seat.  Notwithstanding,  he  is  ready  for  death  ; 
he  expects  it ;  and  when  it  was  requisite  that  he  should 
die,  he  died  as  it  was  requisite. 

This  readiness  for  death  is  even  more  touchingly 
illustrated  in  the  last  moments  of  Moses.  Aaron  died 
in  the  company  of  two  much  loved  and  greatly  honored 
servants  of  God,  and  no  doubt  their  presence  would 
cheer  and  encourage  him.  But  no  one  went  up  to 
Pisgah  with  Moses.  He,  too,  knew  that  he  was  to 
die  there,  and  when  he  left  the  camp  that  morning  he 
knew  that  he  was  never  to  return.  Yet  he  ascended, 
and  alone,  that  he  might  expire !  What  an  impres- 
sive spectacle !  Follow  him  as  he  climbs  the  rugged 
sides  of  Nebo ;  see  him  on  its  summit.  He  turns  his 
eyes  towards  Canaan,  next  towards  heaven,  then  he 
lays  himself  down,  as  if  to  sleep  and  dies.  These  are 
two  beautiful  examples  for  all  good  men  to  copy. 
Think,  then,  my  friends,  think  often  of  death  ;  realize 
it  daily.  Paul  did  this ;  and  hence  he  was  always 
making  ready  for  it,  and  when  it  did  come,  he  peace- 
fully bowed  his  head,  and  gave  up  the  ghost.  "  I  am 
now  ready  to  be  offered,"  he  says,  "  and  the  time  of 
my  departure  is  at  hand.  I  have  fought  a  good  fight, 
I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith : 
henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteous- 
ness, which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall  give 
me  at  that  day  ;  and  not  to  me  only,  but  unto  all 
them  also  that  love  his  appearing." 

in.  Death  is  met  without  fear  when  heaven  is 
EXPECTED  without  DOUBT. — Thcrc  are  some  who 
hold  inconsiderate  opinions  upon  the  subject  of  "  full 
assurance."  They  over-estimate  its  importance. 
They  exalt  it  to  a  position  which  it  does  not  occupy 
in  the  word  of  God,  which  is  the  rule  of  our  faith. 
We   refer  to  the  dogma,  that  full    assurance    is,  in 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  165 

every  true  instance  of  conversion,  not  only  attainable, 
but  attained.  The  proper  inference  from  this  is,  that 
such  assurance  is  necessary  to  salvation,  and  that 
whoever  lives  and  dies  without  it,  passes  into  eternity 
as  he  entered  upon  time,  "  a  child  of  wrath,  even  as 
others." 

Now  this  dogma  has  no  countenance  from  scrip- 
ture, and  the  experience  of  the  best  of  men  opposes 
it.  Many  live  and  many  die  who  never  triumphed, 
but  who  have  long  trusted,  and  the  promise  of  blessed- 
ness is  to  the  man  who  "  puts  his  trust  in  the  Lord." 
At  the  same  time,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  duty 
of  being  assured  of  our  interest  in  Christ — a  duty 
which  is  so  clearly  enjoined  upon  all  his  disciples,  ob- 
tains so  small  a  place  in  the  ordinary  ministrations  of 
the  gospel,  and  consequently  bulks  so  little  in  the  eye 
and  estimate  of  professing  Christians.  The  conse- 
quences are,  and  must  be,  littleness  of  faith  in  the 
church,  and  a  feeble  and  limited  action  by  the  church 
for  the  maintenance  and  extension  of  undefiled  religion. 
This  is  an  evil  of  a  more  general  kind  ;  but  there  are 
other  injurious  results  which  refer  to  the  individual 
comfort  of  the  people  of  God  in  the  last  trying  hour. 
If  all  the  ''  diligence"  to  which  we  are  exhorted  by  an 
apostle  were  given  to  make  our  "  calling  and  election 
sure,"  we  should  have  far  finer  specimens  of  the  victo- 
rious power  of  faith  over  the  natural  fears  of  death 
and  the  judgment  that  follows.  We  have  said  that 
good  men  should  not  fear  death ;  that  to  them  it  is 
stingless.  How  does  it  come  to  pass,  then,  that  a 
great  number  of  really  good  men  and  women  through 
fear  of  death,  are  all  their  lifetime  '*  subject  to  bon- 
dage ?" 

It  is  not  satisfactory  to  account  for  this,  by  referring 
it  to  their  consciousness  of  having  sinful  hearts  and 


166  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

many  defections  both  of  character  and  conduct.  This 
will  be  true  of  the  brightest  of  saints  to  the  last  mo- 
ment of  life ;  for  ''if  we  say  we  have  no  sin,  we  de- 
ceive ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  us."  It  is  be- 
cause we  did  sin,  that  Jesus  died ;  and  it  is  because 
we  still  sin,  that  Jesus  "  ever  lives  to  make  interces- 
sion for  us."  As,  then,  his  atonement  and  intercession 
are  intended  and  adapted  to  counteract  the  penal  con- 
sequences of  sin,  we  who  believe  in  the  infinite  worth 
of  the  one,  and  in  the  all-prevailing  power  of  the  other, 
cannot,  either  reasonably  or  scripturally,  plead  the  re- 
maining corruption  of  sin,  as  a  vindication  of  this  dis- 
trust. In  justification,  our  guilt  is  forever  cancelled  ; 
so  there  cannot  be  curse  in  sin  to  us.  And  in  sancti- 
fication,  our  love  of  sin  is  destroyed :  we  are  conscious 
that  we  hate  it,  though  the  "  law  of  the  members" 
every  now  and  then  gets  the  better  of  the  "law  incur 
minds."  Thus,  then,  delivered  from  the  curse  and 
love  of  sin,  its  power  over  us,  to  a  certainty,  is  grad- 
ually diminishing  ;  that  is,  we  are  surely  and  progres- 
sively made  ready  for  death,  come  whensoever  God 
may  send  it.  Now,  if  these  views  of  truth  were 
kept  steadily  before  our  minds,  we  would  soon  be 
ashamed  of  our  terror  at  dying.  Many  are  afraid  of 
what  they  call  the  sin  of  presumption.  And  so  they 
ought.  But  why  are  they  not  equally  conscientious 
upon  the  sin  of  unbelief  ?  A  genuine  Christian  cannot 
be  guilty  of  the  first  sin,  presumption,  when  he  rejoices 
in  the  hope  of  heaven  as  the  gift  of  Christ  to  him.  It 
is  his  duty  so  to  rejoice.  But  he  may  be  guilty  of  the 
second,  unbelief,  when  he  hesitates  to  realize  his  title 
to  eternal  life  through  the  merits  of  his  divine  Medi- 
ator. 

We  cannot  go  far  aside,  if  aside  at  all,  from  the 
truth,  when  we  aver  that  it  is  the  duty,  and  may  be- 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  167 

come  the  privilege  of  all  the  people  of  God,  to  con- 
vince themselves  that  they  are  of  the  truth,  and  so 
*'  assure  their  hearts  before  him."  This  duty  is  never 
more  easily  performecf,  and  this  privilege  is  never  more 
deliciously  enjoyed,  than  by  habituating  the  mind  to 
the  idea  that  we  are  sure  of  heaven  when  we  die. 
Kept  continually  before  us,  this  certification  of  eternal 
bliss  would  not  only  have  a  fine  reactive  influence  in 
restraining  the  growth  of  worldly-mindedness,  but  it 
would  impel  us  forward  in  all  the  higher  walks  of 
Christian  activity.  Yes,  believers  in  the  love  and 
sacrifice  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  we  afi^irm  it  without 
any  hesitancy,  you  ought  not  to  doubt  of  your  safety 
in  him,  either  before,  at,  or  after  death.  Neither 
death  nor  life  make  any  difference  to  you  as  to  your 
secure  possession  of  his  favor.  If  you  live  you  have 
it ;  if  you  die  you  have  it ;  and  you  must  surely  admit 
that,  whether  living  or  dying,  '^  in  his  favor  there  is 
/z/e,"  and  in  his  loving-kindness,  something  even 
better  than  life.  For  any  one,  then,  who  has  faith 
in  the  atonement  of  Jesus,  to  be  afraid  of  death,  is 
somewhat  tantamount  to  his  being  afraid  of  life. 
To  the  Christian,  death  is  life ;  it  is  going  to  the  Lord ; 
it  is  '*  being  with  the  Lord."  There  is  no  journey 
which  we  ought  to  be  more  happy  to  take,  than  that 
which  is  to  lead  us  heavenward  and  Christward; 
and  there  is  no  presence  we  ought  so  much  to  long 
and  pray  for,  as  His,  where  there  "  is  fulness  of  joy, 
and  at  whose  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for  ever- 
more." 

But  how,  it  may  be  still  asked,  are  we  to  contrive 
to  reach  such  a  clear  and  blissful  height  as  that  from 
which  we  could  enjoy  a  foresight  of  our  future  entrance 
after  death  into  the  ''  land  that  is  afar  off?"     The  an- 


168  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

swer  to  this  question  shall  be  simple,  and  with  it  we 
conclude : 

Live  on  the  summit  of  your  spiritual  Pisgahs  ! 
Let  the  word,  the  covenant,  and  the  perfections  of 
God,  be  to  you  as  the  mountains  of  Abarim.  Let  the 
all-sufficient  righteousness  of  Christ  be  to  you  as 
mount  Nebo.  And  let  your  hope  in  that  righteousness 
be  to  you  as  Pisgah.  With  your  minds  enlightened 
in  the  truths  of  the  Bible ;  with  your  hands  grasping 
the  bonds  of  the  everlasting  covenant ;  with  your  eyes 
gazing  on  the  brilliant  glories  of  Jehovah's  attributes 
as  they  are  exhibited  in  redemption,  ascend  by  faith, 
that  you  may  set  your  affections  on  things  above.  To 
be  continually  sustained  in  this  spiritually  elevated 
condition  and  exercises,  let  this  be  yom*  confidence,  that 
it  is  the  Rock  of  salvation  on  which  you  stand.  Above 
all  things,  do  not  mistake  your  own  sinful  shakings 
and  fears  for  any  insecurity  about  that  immovable  and 
indestructible  foundation. 

When  thus  lifted  up  and  planted  on  God's  own  high 
places,  on  Zion's  own  lovely  heights,  open  the  eyes  of 
your  hope,  and  you  will  see  before  you  the  promised 
inheritance  :  that  is  Canaan  !  that  is  heaven  !  Now, 
do  not  close  your  eyes,  neither  avert  your  head ;  do 
not  look  behind  you,  and  think  not  of  descending  to 
the  valley  of  the  world  you  have  left.  You  must 
tabernacle  for  a  season  on  Pisgali ;  it  is  really  good  for 
you  to  be  there.  Keep  your  gaze  fixed  on  the  magni- 
ficent scenery  spread  out  before  your  spiritual  vision. 
See,  yonder  in  the  distance  is  the  New  Jerusalem, 
whose  light  is  "  like  unto  a  stone  most  precious  ;  even 
like  a  jasper  stone,  clear  as  crystal ;"  whose  wall  is 
"great  and  high,"  having  "  twelve  gates,  and  at  the 
gates  twelve  angels  ;"  whose  city  itself  is  "  pure  gold, 
like  unto  clear  glass,"  having  *'  no  need  of  the  sun, 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  169 

neither  of  the  moon  to  shine  in  it ;  for  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  doth  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light 
thereof."  Yonder  is  the  "  pure  river  of  the  water  of 
life  proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the 
Lamb."  Yonder  is  the  tree  of  life,  bearing  twelve 
manner  of  fruits,  and  yielding  her  fruit  every  month. 
Yonder  is  the  throne  of  the  Eternal,  and  that  is  the 
Lamb  of  God  sitting  upon  it ;  round  about  that  throne 
there  is  a  rambow,  in  sight  like  unto  an  emerald,  also 
four  and  twenty  seats,  whereon  are  four  and  twenty 
elders  clothed  in  white  raiment  and  having  on  their 
heads  crowns  of  gold.  Before  that  throne  are  burning 
seven  lamps,  which  are  the  seven  spirits  of  God,  and 
ranged  around,  with  harps  in  their  hands,  are  innumer- 
able angels  and  ransomed  spirits,  who  rest  not  day  nor 
night,  singing,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty, 
which  was,  and  is,  and  is  to  come."  ''  Thou  art  wor- 
thy, O  Lord,  to  receive  glory,  and  honor,  and  power  ; 
for  thou  hast  created  all  things,  and  for  thy  pleasure 
they  are  and  were  created." 

Believers !  that  city  is  your  destination,  that  God  is 
your  God,  that  Lamb  is  your  Saviour,  these  angels 
are  your  servants,  and  these  just  spirits  are  your 
fellow-citizens,  who  have  gone  before  you ;  some  of 
them  may  be  your  own  dearest  and  most  beloved  re- 
lations and  friends.  These,  it  may  be,  are  your 
parents,  your  husbands,  and  wives ;  and  these  sweet- 
looking  happy  seraphs,  who  are  claiming  right  to  sing 
above  all  the  rest,  are  your  beautiful  little  ones,  who 
there 

"  Have  found  the  happy  shore, 
They  never  saw  nor  sought  before." 

O,  how  can  you  ever  think  of  turning  your  eyes  away 
from  such  sights  as  these,  to  view  the  vanities  of  life  ? 

^3 


170  MOUNT    PISGAH. 

How  can  you  deliberately  purpose  to  go  down  and 
dwell  again  with  the  men  of  the  world  ?  Goodly  may 
be  the  tents  of  Jacob  and  the  tabernacles  of  Israel ;  as 
*'  the  valleys  they  may  be  spread  forth,  as  gardens  by 
the  river  side,  as  the  trees  of  lign-aloes  which  the  Lord 
hath  planted,  and  as  cedar  trees  beside  the  waters  ;" 
but  even  they  cannot  for  a  moment  stand  in  compari- 
son with  this  view  from  Pisgah.  The  Lord  himself 
*'  loveth  the  gates  of  Zion  more  than  all  the  dwellings 
of  Jacob,"  and  so  in  your  estimate  of  the  two,  ought 
you  to  prefer  the  heavenly  to  the  earthly  Jerusalem. 
If  you  are  wise,  cherish  such  a  preference  continually. 
Abide  in  the  full  assurance  of  hope  that  you  will  soon 
go  over  to  that  land  of  bliss  ;  and  resolve,  under  divine 
grace,  never  to  disturb  the  peaceful  testimony  within 
you,  that  Paradise  is  to  be  your  everlasting  home,  and 
that  death  is  to  be  the  messenger  that  must  carry  you 
thither. 

And  when  at  last  that  messenger  arrives  ;  when  you 
feel  that  the  tide  of  life  has  well  nigh  reached  its  low- 
est ebb  ;  when  the  farewell  scene  with  weeping  friends 
is  over,  and  when  every  sublunary  thing  has  faded 
from  your  mind,  even  then  your  faith,  which  is  certain 
soon  to  pass  into  vision,  shall  become  not  only  omni- 
potent over  the  King  of  Terrors,  but  so  eloquently 
vocal  with  the  praises  of  Him  who  has  "  abolished 
death"  for  you,  as  to  leave  the  privileged  spectators 
for  a  moment  in  doubt  whether  you  are  in  the  body 
or  out  of  the  body.  Thus  you  will  pass  from  your 
death-beds  to  your  thrones,  in  the  very  exercises,  and 
with  the  very  feelings,  which  are  to  be  maintained  and 
cherished  throughout  all  eternity.  Thus  even  heaven, 
with  all  its  inconceivable  splendors,  will  take  you  less 
by  surprise  than  if  you  went  thither  from  a  lower  plat- 
form ir^  the  steep  ascents  of  spiritual  life.     Its  full 


MOUNT    PISGAH.  171 

communion  you  had  almost  reached ;  with  its  exalted 
society  you  had  made  yourselves  sweetly  familiar ;  to 
its  elevating  and  gorgeous  music  you  had  long  tuned 
your  hearts ;  and  now,  one  last  breath  drawn,  and 
your  happy  spirits  are  absent  from  the  body  and  pre- 
sent with  the  Lord. 


I 


MOUNT    GILBOA, 


THE    VICISSITUDES   OF   LIFE 


Having  crossed  the  Jordan  under  the  leadership  of 
Joshua,  the  successor  of  Moses,  the  children  of  Israel, 
after  many  severe  contests  with  the  Canaanitcs,  at 
length  got  possession  of  the  promised  land.  For  a  long 
period  they  continued  under  the  government  of  the 
judges,  and  were  prosperous  and  happy.  In  course  of 
time,  however,  they  became  emulous  of  monarchy, 
and  demanded  a  king.  "  Behold,"  they  said  to  Samuel, 
"  thou  art  old,  and  thy  sons  walk  not  in  thy  ways  : 
now  make  us  a  king  to  judge  us  like  all  the  nations." 
The  venerable  seer  remonstrated  with  them  on  the 
sin  and  ingratitude  of  such  conduct,  but  in  vain. — 
"  Nay,"  said  they,  "  but  we  will  have  a  king  over  us  ; 
that  we  also  may  be  like  all  the  nations ;  and  that 
our  king  may  judge  us,  and  go  out  before  us,  and  fight 
our  battles."  They  got  their  wish,  and  in  due  time 
Saul  was  crowned.  Troublous  times  soon  thereafter 
befell  the  kingdom.  Saul  proved  himself  to  be  unequal 
to  the  exigencies  of  his  high  position.  The  evil  spirit 
which  sometimes  came  upon  him,  and  his  jealousy  of 
the  man  whom  Providence  pointed  out  as  his  sue- 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  173 

cessor,  involved  the  nation  in  turmoil,  and  often  placed 
them  in  peril. 

The  Philistines  were  the  most  warlike  and  formi- 
dable of  Israel's  adversaries.  Jehovah  used  them  as 
instruments  of  punishment  for  his  people's  rejection 
of  himself.  It  should  be  noticed,  that  the  coronation 
of  Saul  was  not  under  divine  sanction.  God  only 
permitted  it.  The  idea  of  erecting  Israel  into  a  king- 
dom was  of  their  own  suggestion.  They  ought  to 
have  been  contented  with  their  first  system  of  govern- 
ment, not  only  because  it  had  been  tried  and  found 
suitable  for  four  hundred  years,  but  because  it  was  of 
divine  appointment.  There  is  something  peculiarly 
impressive  in  the  words  of  Jehovah  respecting  their 
conduct  at  this  time  :  "  Hearken,"  he  said  to  Samuel, 
"  unto  the  voice  of  the  people  in  all  that  they  say  unto 
thee :  for  they  have  not  rejected  thee,  but  they  have 
rejected  me,  that  I  should  not  reign  over  them."  The 
sequel  of  their  history  proves  how  dangerous  it  is  to 
dictate  to  God  in  a  spirit  of  dissatisfaction  with  his 
arrangements.  We  may  assure  ourselves  that  we  are 
never  so  weU  nor  so  safe,  as  when  we  permit  Him 
who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning  to  determine  the 
bounds  of  our  habitation.  Over  our  prayers  for  his 
guidance  and  goodness,  we  ought  to  exercise  a  jealous 
watchfulness,  that  they  do  not  degenerate  into  clamors 
for  change,  merely  for  the  sake  of  change.  He  may 
be  provoked  to  give  us  our  heart's  desire,  which,  in 
such  circumstances,  is  certain  to  turn  out  a  curse,  not 
a  blessing.  The  Hebrews  scorned  the  theocracy,  even 
the  rule  of  him  who  is  King  of  kings,  and  they  soon 
discovered,  upon  the  mountains  of  Gilboa,  and  under 
the  reign  of  many  of  their  kings,  that,  as  they  were 
chastised  with  the  whips  of  one,  and  with  the  scorpions 
of  another,  they  were  only  "  eating  the  fruit  of  their 


174  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

own  way,  and  filled  with  their  own  devices."  Let  us 
meditate  for  a  little  upon  the  melancholy  disasters 
that  befell  them  in  the  battle  of  Gilboa,  in  which  they 
sustained  a  disgraceful  defeat,  and  the  death  of  their 
first  monarch.* 


PART   I. 

PORTRAIT    OF    DAVID. 

GILBOA DAVID      AND     GOLIATH JONATHAN BRAVERY     AND 

PIETY — DEATH    OF   SAUL   AND    JONATHAN DAVId's    LAMEN- 
TATION. 

There  is  but  little  to  be  told  about  the  field  of  bat- 
tle. The  mountains  of  Gilboa  lie  sixty  miles  to  the 
north  of  Jerusalem,  bounding  the  great  plain  of  Ez- 
draelon  on  the  southeast,  and  are  interposed  between 
that  plain  and  the  valley  of  the  Jordan.  "  Here,"  we  are 
informed,  ''  there  are  a  number  of  ridges  with  a  gen- 
eral direction  from  northwest  to  southeast,  separated 
by  valleys  running  in  the  same  direction.  The  largest 
of  these  valleys  is  the  southermost.  It  is  a  broad  deep 
plain,  about  two  miles  and  a  half  wide,  and  leading 
directly  into  the  Jordan  valley.  This  is  supposed  to  be 
the  valley  of  Jczreel,  as  Ezdraelon  is  sometimes  desig- 
nated. The  mountains  which  bound  it  on  the  north 
appear  to  be  those  of  Little  Hermon,  and  the  higher 
mountains,  which  bound  it  on  the  south,  undoubtedly 
form  mount  Gilboa."  This  group  of  hills  rises  to 
the  height  of  800  feet  above  the  level  of  the  road, 

*  1  Samuel  xxxi. ;  2  Samuel  i. 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  175 

and  is  perhaps  1000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  Jordan. 
The  ridge  rises  up  in  peaks,  and  bears  a  little  withered 
grass,  and  a  few  scanty  shrubs,  scattered  about  in 
different  places."  The  peculiarly  desolate  character  of 
Jebal  Gilbo,  as  the  natives  still  call  it,. was  ascribed 
by  most  of  the  old  travellers  to  the  poetical  impreca- 
tion of  David,  where,  in  his  lamentation  over  Saul 
and  Jonathan,  he  says,  "Ye  mountains  of  Gilboa,  let 
there  be  no  dew,  neither  let  there  be  any  rain  upon 
you,  nor  fields  of  offerings !"  This,  however,  is  too 
literal  an  interpretation  of  the  words  of  the  poet,  since 
it  is  admitted,  that  at  the  present  day,  ample  dews 
and  heavy  rains  fall  upon  these  hills. 

Meagre,  however,  though  the  topography  of  Gilboa 
may  be,  we  quickly  become  interested  in  its  moun- 
tains when  we  study  their  scriptural  history.  The 
pathetic  strains  of  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  have  im- 
mortalized them.  They  are  now  associated,  in  every 
pious  mind,  with  one  of  the  most  graphic  pieces  of 
Bible  narrative.  There  the  mighty  fell,  and  there  the 
weapons  of  war  perished.  There  Saul,  the  king  of 
Israel's  choice,  and  Jonathan,  the  brave  and  the  good, 
were  slain ;  and  there  David,  the  anointed  of  the  Lord, 
ascended  the  vacant  throne. 

It  was  altogether  a  singular  manifestation  of  the 
overruling  Providence  of  God.  As  in  the  first  instance 
the  choice  of  the  people  fell  upon  one  while  he  was 
seeking  for  his  father's  asses,  in  the  second  the  choico 
of  Jehovah  fell  upon  one  who  was  tending  his  father's 
sheep ;  so  true  is  the  scripture  :  "  Promotion  cometh 
neither  from  the  east  nor  the  west,  nor  from  the  south, 
but  God  is  the  judge  ;  he  putteth  down  one,  and  set- 
teth  up  another ;  he  raiseth  up  the  poor  out  of  the 
dust,  and  lifteth  the  needy  out  of  the  dung-hill,  that 


176  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

he  may  set  him  with  princes,  even  with  the  princes  of 
his  people." 

In  studying  the  scene  before  us,  we  cannot  disre- 
gard the  truly  exquisite  picture  which  the  inspired 
narrative  draws  of  the  shepherd-boy's  introduction  to 
our  notice  in  the  character  of  a  warrior.*  Let  a  brief 
sketch  suffice. 

King  Saul  sits  in  his  tent  by  the  valley  of  Elah, 
and  the  banners  of  the  armies  of  Israel  are  floating 
all  around  on  the  sides  of  Gilboa.  The  king  has  sum- 
moned a  council  of  war,  and  beside  him  now  are 
gathered  both  the  men  of  wisdom  and  the  men  of 
might :  these  are  pale  with  terror,  and  those  are  ab- 
sorbed in  perplexing  consultation.  Each  man  looks  in 
the  face  of  his  neighbor  to  find  the  courage  which  he 
lacks  in  himself,  but  conscience  has  made  cowards  of 
them  all ;  no  one  seems  disposed  to  deliver  this  coun- 
cil of  war  from  its  dilemma.  What  occasions  it  ? 
The  challenge  of  a  Philistine  giant  to  settle  the  present 
contest  between  his  army  and  that  of  Israel,  by  a  per- 
sonal combat  between  him  and  one  of  the  Hebrew 
warriors.  "  Why  are  ye  come  out  to  set  your  battle 
in  array  ?"  he  exclaims.  "  Am  not  I  a  Philistine, 
and  ye  servants  to  Saul  ?  choose  you  a  man  for  you, 
and  let  him  come  down  to  me.  If  he  be  able  to  fight 
with  me,  and  to  kill  me,  then  will  we  be  your  servants  ; 
but  if  I  prevail  against  him,  and  kill  him,  then  shall 
ye  be  our  servants,  and  serve  us." 

Already  forty  days  have  passed  away '  since  the 
Philistine  defied  the  armies  of  Israel,  saying,  "  Give 
me  a  man,  that  we  may  fight  together."  He  had  pre- 
sented himself  every  morning  and  every  evening  daring 
that  period,  but  as  yet  his  gauntlet  lay  untouched 
upon  the  neutral  ground.     O  shame  to  the  warriors 

*  1  Snm.  xvii. 


MOUNT    GILBOA. 


177 


of  Israel,  who  had  seen  the  glory  and  power  of  Jeho- 
vah, and  who  had  so  often  fought  and  conquered  under 
the  broad  shield  of  his  favor  !  Matters  cannot  remain 
long  in  this  state.  The  heathen  hosts,  by  every  day's 
delay,  become  more  emboldened,  and  are  impatient  for 
the  battle.  The  Israelites  are  every  day  correspond- 
ingly disheartened,  and  less  disposed  to  risk  a  general 
engagement.  But  the  dreaded  crisis  comes.  The 
host  "  goes  forth  to  the  fight,  and  shouts  for  the  battle." 
"Israel  and  the  Philistines  put  the  battle  in  array, 
army  against  army." 

The  king  has  made  a  last  appeal.  It  is  received  as 
the  others  were,  in  silence  and  fear,  and  hope  is  about 
to  be  abandoned.  Suddenly  the  tent  door  is  thrown 
open,  and  all  breathless  from  his  speed,  a  messenger 
from  the  field  enters,  and  narrates  that  the  challenge 
has  been  accepted.  The  bosoms  of  the  council  again 
heave  ;  they  are  relieved  of  fear,  but  their  eyes  are  full 
of  astonishment.  Surely,  thought  they,  this  bold  man 
must  be  one  of  the  hardy  and  powerful  veterans  of  the 
camp,  and  they  await  wdth  impatience  his  arrival,  for 
the  kins:  has  sent  for  him.  He  comes  !  What  a  dis- 
appointment!  They  expected,  perhaps,  one  of  the 
old  warriors  of  the  time  of  the  judges  ;  but  lo !  the 
brave  accepter  of  the  giant's  challenge  is  a  stripling. 
He  has  never  been  in  battle,  he  knows  not  how  to  use 
the  sword,  nor  project  the  arrow.  How  mortifying ! 
It  is  the  court  minstrel !  it  is  the  son  of  Jesse  !  known 
only  for  playing  skilfully  on  the  harp !  A  smile  of 
derision  is  upon  every  face.  The  king  is  offended, 
and  exclaims  that  it  cannot  be.  His  harper  firmly, 
though  meekly,  maintains  his  purpose,  and  narrates 
what  God  already  enabled  him  to  do  when  he  delivered 
the  lamb  of  his  flock  from  the  paws  of  the  lion  and 
the  bear.     The  royal  heart  is  assured.     "  Go,  and  the 

8* 


178  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

Lord  be  with  thee,"  he  said,  and  David  is  taken  to  the 
royal  armory.  He  is  encumbered  with  the  weapons 
of  their  warfare.  He  quickly  puts  them  off ;  he  has 
*'  not  proved  them."  So,  with  nothing  more  than  a 
staff  in  his  one  hand,  and  a  sling  and  a  few  pebbles 
from  the  neighboring  brook  in  the  other,  he  goes  forth 
— confidence  in  the  Lord  of  Israel  strong  and  steady 
within  him — to  fight  the  uncircumcised  Philistine. 

But  there  is  a  stir  also  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy. 
It  is  rumored  that  their  champion's  gauntlet  has  been 
lifted ;  and  soon  the  rumor  is  confirmed.  Goliath,  in 
the  pride  of  his  strength,  awaits  the  approach  of  his 
bold  antagonist.  "When  he  espies  David,  his  soul  is 
filled  with  contempt.  "  Am  I  a  dog,"  he  cried  out, 
"  that  thou  comest  to  me  with  staves."  And  the 
Philistine  cursed  David  by  his  gods,  and  said,  ''  Come 
to  me,  and  I  will  give  thy  flesh  unto  the  fowls  of  the 
air,  and  to  the  beasts  of  the  field !"  How  noble  the 
reply  of  the  king's  minstrel  boy!  "Thou  comest  to 
me  with  a  sword,  and  with  a  spear,  and  with  a  shield  ; 
but  I  come  to  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
the  God  of  the  armies  of  Israel,  whom  thou  hast  defied. 
This  day  will  the  Lord  deliver  thee  into  mine  hand : 
and  I  will  smite  thee,  and  take  thine  head  from  thee ; 
and  I  will  give  the  carcases  of  the  host  of  the  Philis- 
tines this  day  unto  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  to  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  field;  that  all  the  earth  may  know 
that  there  is  a  God  in  Israel."  He  then  lifts  his  sling ; 
the  stone  is  projected  from  it ;  God  gives  that  stone 
direction  and  force ;  in  a  twinkling  it  sunk  into  the 
forehead  of  the  giant ;  his  huge  carcase  measures  the 
earth ;  and  having  cut  off  his  head,  David  carried  it 
with  him  to  Saul,  and  receives  the  royal  command  to 
return  no  more  to  his  father's  house. 

There  was  one  in  the  household  of  Saul  on  whom 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  179 

the  circumstances  related  made  a  deep  impression. 
This  was  Jonathan,  his  son,  and,  as  one  would  say, 
the  heir-apparent  to  the  throne.  No  sooner  had  he 
listened  to  the  account  which  David  gave  of  himself 
to  his  father,  than  he  conceives  for  him  the  strongest 
love.  ^'  The  soul  of  Jonathan  was  knit  with  the  soul 
of  David,  and  Jonathan  loved  him  as  his  own  soul." 
The  many  proofs  which  he  gave  of  this  love  are  re- 
corded in  the  sacred  narrative.  Often  did  he  intervene 
to  avert  the  deadly  jealousy  of  his  father  from  David ; 
and  uniformly,  when  the  latter  was  persecuted  and 
oppressed,  did  he  essay  to  alleviate  his  grief  by  sym- 
pathy, and  revive  his  drooping  spirit  by  pointing  him 
to  the  brilliant  future.  This  was  the  more  to  be  com- 
mended, when  we  consider  that  filial  respect  and 
affection  abode  still  and  strong  in  his  heart.  His  was 
an  exceedingly  delicate  position  ;  for  if  he  ventured 
too  far  in  obedience  to  his  love  for  David,  he  might 
seem  to  disregard  the  authority  of,  and  the  respect 
due  to  a  royal  parent,  and  thus  risk  his  displeasure. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  his  anxiety  to  manifest  that 
filial  regard  was  not  very  carefully  controlled,  and  very 
adroitly  timed,  the  life  of  his  adopted  brother  might 
be  seriously  imperilled. 

If  any  additional  consideration  can  increase  our 
admiration  of  this  truly  lovely  youth,  it  is  this ;  he 
evidently  had  no  jealousy  of  David,  who  he  knew 
was  to  supplant  him  in  the  throne.  So  far  from  this 
being  the  case,  it  seems  to  have  been  his  great  object 
to  preserve  him  for  that  throne,  and  to  reserve  that 
throne  for  him.  There  must  have  been,  yea,  there 
was,  in  such  extraordinary  self-denial,  the  fear  of  God. 
Such  disinterestedness  is  rare.  In  analogous  instan- 
ces, the  worst  passions  of  depraved  nature  have  been 
infuriated  in  order  to  circumvent  the  accession  of  rivals 


180  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

or  opponents.  But  Jonathan  was  pious.  He  saw 
that  the  crown  was  designed  by  the  God  of  Israel  for 
the  son  of  Jesse ;  and  perhaps,  too,  he  had  seen  enough 
of  the  cares  that  are  inseparable  from  such  exalted 
stations,  and  enough  of  the  vanity  of  earthly  greatness, 
to  quench  in  him  all  desire  after  the  succession.  He 
w^as  not  only  content  then  to  step  aside  and  allow  an- 
other to  take  his  place,  but  he  was  so  well  pleased 
with  the  evident  designs  of  Providence,  as  to  lend  a 
most  cheerful  aid  to  their  entire  accomplishment. 

O  that  such  a  spirit  had  ever  dwelt  in  the  bosoms 
of  the  mighty  men  of  the  earth  I  What  wars  and 
rumors  of  wars  might  thus  have  been  prevented  I 
How  many  of  the  countless  and  appalling  miseries 
that  accompany  and  flow  from  unbridled  and  cruel 
lusts,  might  never  have  been  known!  In  the  case 
before  us,  if  the  father  had  possessed  but  a  tithe  of 
the  godly  fear  and  manly  acquiescence  of  the  son,  the 
character  of  David  perhaps  would  not  have  been  sub- 
jected to  the  severe  ordeal,  in  passing  through  which 
he  was  qualifying  for  his  future  distinction,  but  Israel 
would  have  had  more  honor  and  happiness  under  his 
reign,  and  he  himself  would  have  enjoyed  the  advan- 
tages of  his  high  rank.  But  how  unlike  the  father  to 
the  son !  How  fickle,  envious,  ferocious,  and  impious 
was  Saul — how  steady,  generous,  self-denied,  submis- 
sive, and  devout  was  Jonathan  !  Earthly  greatness 
and  divine  grace  are  seldom  found  together  in  the 
same  individual ;  sometimes  they  have  been  discerned 
in  the  same  family.  Saul  was  a  great  man,  as  the 
world  counts  greatness,  but  he  was  very  far  from  being 
a  good  man.  His  son,  however,  (and  it  is  not  often  that 
king's  sons  have  such  a  reputation,)  was  one  of  the 
very  best  of  men.  In  every  point  of  view,  his  charac- 
ter is  extremely  beautiful  and  even  noble.     It  has 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  181 

been  inadvertently  surmised,  that  it  requires  a  hard- 
hearted man  to  be  a  hero.  There  never  was  a  more 
affectionate  man  than  Jonathan,  and  after  David's  en- 
comium on  his  bearing  in  the  battle-field,  who  shall 
deny  that  he  was  brave  as  a  lion  ?  "  From  the  blood 
of  the  slain,  from  the  fat  of  the  mighty,  the  bow  of 
Jonathan  turned  not  back." 

It  is  also  equally  ignorantly  afiirmed  that  a  pious 
man  cannot  make  a  brave  soldier.  You  know  how 
many  scriptural  illustrations  can  be  quoted  to  prove 
the  very  opposite,  and  Jonathan  and  David  are  not 
the  least  eminent  among  the  heroes  of  the  Bible,  who 
were  also  most  evidently  God  fearing  and  praying 
men.  Even  profane  history  furnishes  not  a  few  honor- 
able instances  of  the  union  of  piety  and  fortitude  in 
the  same  individual.  We  are  told  that  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  after  one  of  his  famous  engagements, 
declared,  that  he  believed  he  had  prayed  more  that 
day,  than  all  the  chaplains  of  the  army  put  together. 
The  illustrious  Cromwell,  we  know,  was  much  given 
to  prayer ;  and  whether  he  was  most  expert  at  hand- 
ling the  ''  sword  of  the  Spirit"  or  the  sword  of  war,  it 
is  not  easy  to  decide.  By  the  chivalrous  use  of  the 
one,  and  the  sincere  employment  of  the  other,  he  de- 
stroyed the  enemies  of  his  country's  liberties,  and 
shielded  with  a  nation^s  bravery  and  piety  his  coun- 
try's altars.  The  name  of  Colonel  Gardiner  is  well 
known  to  all  who  delight  to  contemplate  heroism  in 
the  soldier  with  godliness  in  the  man.  And  thus  it 
will  always  be.  It  is  ''  the  fear  of  man  that  bringeth 
a  snare  ;"  the  fearers  of  God  are  bold  as  lions. 

We  cannot  venture  on  a  description  of  the  subse- 
quent events  in  the  history  of  David,  from  the  period 
of  his  victory  over  Goliath  to  the  battle  in  which  Saul, 
his  royal  persecutor,  and  Jonathan,  his  beloved  friend, 


182  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

were  slain.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  his  life  was  one  of 
perpetual  unhappiness,  from  the  evil  spirit  of  Saul. 
Even  the  exquisite  music  of  his  harp  came  to  lose  its 
soothing  influence  over  the  royal  mind.  As  David 
played,  the  king  meditated  murder,  and  oftener  than 
once  projected  the  deadly  javelin  against  his  minstrel. 
Again  and  again  he  had  to  escape  from  the  palace ; 
and  for  years  he  fled  from  place  to  place,  hiding,  now 
in  the  field,  now  in  the  cave,  now  on  the  mountain 
side ;  sometimes,  in  the  mysterious  Providence  of 
God,  having  the  life  of  his  kingly  foe  in  his  power, 
but  never  venturing  to  injure  one  hair  of  the  head  of 
him  whom  Samuel  had  crowned  king  of  Israel.  The 
chivalry  of  the  conqueror  of  Goliath  was  forgotten  in 
the  eager  haste  of  Saul  to  shed  the  blood  of  that  hated 
one  whose  praises  filled  the  land  of  Canaan.  His  en- 
vious spirit  could  not  tolerate  the  acclamations  that 
extolled  the  son  of  Jesse  at  the  expense  of  the  son  of 
Kish.  He  might  have  been  pleased  with  this,  "  Saul 
has  slain  his  thousands ;"  but  became  like  a  madman 
when  there  was  appended  to  it,  "  David  has  slain  his 
tens  of  thousands."  An  end,  however,  came  to  it  all. 
The  Philistines  gave  battle  to  Israel,  and  Saul  was 
routed.  Saul  and  his  sons  were  among  the  slain  ;  and 
from  amid  the  disasters  of  the  mountains  of  Gilboa, 
David  ascended  the  throne  of  Judah. 

The  conduct  of  David,  on  hearing  of  these  disasters, 
is  exceedingly  rich  in  all  those  treasures  for  which  a 
forgiving  disposition  and  a  grateful  heart  are  com- 
mended. From  his  pathetic  lamentation,  no  one 
could  have  gathered  that  Saul  had  been  his  enemy, 
and  the  occasion  to  him  of  years  of  unutterable  dis- 
tress. No ;  there  is  not  one  line  on  which  even  the 
shade  of  such  an  allusion  can  be  detected.  The  wail 
of  this  touching  scriptural  coronach  could  not  have 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  183 

been  more  genuinely  sorrowful,  though  Saul's  love  to 
David  had  equalled  that  of  Jonathan.  No  difference 
is  here  made  in  the  tribute  given  to  the  father  and 
the  son ;  both  are  characterized  as  the  "  beauty  of 
Israel,"  as  the  "  mighty  fallen,"  as  having  both  ''  been 
lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives."  Nothing  is  here 
recorded  of  the  dead  but  what  is  good.  The  past  is 
forgotten,  and  the  rank  and  excellences  of  the  de- 
ceased are  alone  remembered.  Whatever  he  had 
been  to  David,  Saul  was  king ;  he  was  "  the  Lord's 
anointed ;"  and  under  the  same  holy  regard  for  the 
honor  of  Jehovah  which  led  him  to  put  to  death  the 
Amalekite  who  pretended  to  have  slain  the  king,  he 
now  celebrated  those  qualities  which  would  not  only 
embalm  his  memory  in  Israel,  but  diffuse  its  savor 
among  the  nations.  His  thoughts  were  not  all  selfish 
in  this  melting  cardephonia.  He  remembered  the 
honor  of  Jehovah.  God's  people  had  been  routed  by 
the  Philistines,  and  his  people's  king  had  fallen ;  hence 
that  fine  burst  of  regard  for  the  glorious  name  of 
Jehovah  :  ''  Tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish  it  not  in  the 
streets  of  Askelon ;  lest  the  daughters  of  the  Philis- 
tines rejoice,  lest  the  daughters  of  the  uncircumcised 
triumph." 

David  here  sets  a  fine  example.  If  the  followers  of 
the  Lamb  had  always  been  under  similar  impressions 
of  what  was  due  to  the  credit  of  the  common  cause, 
the  cause  of  God,  there  would  have  been  amongst 
them  fewer  denunciations  of  their  several  failings  or 
backslidings,  and  much  more  of  that  charity  which 
thinketh  no  evil,  and  covers  a  multitude  of  sins. 
Christians  should  remember  that  they  are  of  one  fam- 
ily, and  that  they  ought  not  to  make  public  all  the 
defects  which,  if  it  may  be  so  expressed,  their  house- 
hold familiarity  occasionally  develops.     An  honorable 


184  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

mind  will  conceal  from  the  world  what  in  the  family 
circle  is  freely  discussed  and  condemned  as  improper. 
So  ought  the  members  of  the  household  of  faith.  Such 
a  system,  did  it  more  extensively  prevail,  would  tend 
greatly  to  commend  Christianity  to  ungodly  men.  It 
is  admitted  that  some  provocations  are  not  easily  re- 
sisted, and  some  injuries  not  easily  borne ;  but  if  we 
would  only  remember  that  the  sacred  cause  of  religion 
is  at  stake  in  our  hands,  that  the  honor  of  our  be- 
loved Redeemer  is  in  peril,  we  would  much  more 
easily  conquer  our  own  spirits,  and  submit  in  silence 
to  what  otherwise  we  might  very  properly  denounce 
in  public.  It  is,  or  ought  to  be,  a  most  humbling 
thing  to  the  genuine  disciple  of  Christ  to  hear  the 
daughters  of  the  Philistines  rejoicing,  and  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  uncircumcised  triumphing  over  the  fail  of 
virtue  or  the  declension  of  piety.  It  is  possible  that 
we  may  have  been  unjustly  and  even  cruelly  treated 
by  some  who  call  upon  and  trust  in  the  same  Saviour. 
It  is  our  duty  to  forgive  them ;  and  if  they  should  be 
in  danger  of  bringing  disgrace  on  our  common  profes- 
sion, it  is  our  duty  to  do  what  in  us  lies  to  hide  their 
misconduct,  unless  the  still  higher  interests  of  truth 
demand  a  more  open  and  free  investigation.  In  this, 
it  is  best  to  err  (if  it  be  an  error)  on  the  side  of  tender 
jealousy  for  the  credit  of  religion,  and  of  enlightened 
charity  for  the  failings  of  human  nature. 

It  were  injustice  to  this  beautiful  and  touching  an- 
them, and  to  that  sweet  psalmist  who  made  it,  to 
overlook  the  truly  melting  effusion  of  fraternal  grief 
with  which  it  concludes.  No  other  language  has 
made  such  a  contribution  towards  the  expression  of 
those  exquisitely  amiable  affections  that  reign  in  the 
inner  man  of  the  renewed  heart.  "  O  Jonathan,  thou 
wast  slain  in  thine  high  places !     T  am  distressed  for 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  185 

thee,  my  brother  Jonathan :  very  pleasant  hast  thou 
been  unto  me  ;  thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful,  passing 
the  love  of  women.  How  are  the  mighty  fallen,  and 
the  weapons  of  war  perished !"  If  we  except  our 
Saviour's  lamentation  over  Jerusalem,  we  consider 
this  specimen  of  pathos  in  grief  to  be  unparalled.  It 
is  sublime  without  being  unnatural,  intense  without 
being  extravagant,  laudatory  without  being  fulsome, 
copious  without  superfluity,  and  sentimental  without 
effeminacy.  Jonathan  well  merited  such  an  enco- 
mium, for  the  annals  of  friendship  present  no  such  em- 
bodiment as  did  his,  of  all  the  properties  that  give  to 
manly  affection  the  image  of  divine  love,  and  enrich 
its  outgoings  with  the  nutritious  aliments  of  sensible, 
seasonable,  and  substantial  piety.  To  this  admirable 
youth  may  be  assigned,  in  Old  Testament  biography, 
a  niche  corresponding  to  that  which  John,  "the  be- 
loved disciple,"  occupies  in  the  New.  Let  us  learn 
from  his  history  not  only  to  bow  to,  but  to  labor  to 
carry  out,  the  designs  of  Providence ;  not  only  to 
live,  but  to  die,  if  need  be,  for  the  cause  of  God,  and 
that  his  decrees  may  be  fulfilled. 

The  beautiful  story  of  the  battle  of  Gilboa  is  replete 
with  instruction  of  a  varied  and  interesting  character. 
To  one  view  of  the  subject,  however,  we  confine  our 
observations,  and  that  for  obvious  reasons.  The  vicis- 
situdes of  this  life  are  strikingly  apparent  in  the  mis- 
fortunes of  Saul,  and  the  elevation  of  David ;  but  such 
changes  belong  to  no  age  or  people  ;  they  appertain  to 
the  human  lot;  and  as  in  these  days  we  are  called 
upon  to  witness  such,  not  only  in  the  revolutions  of 
kingdoms,  but  on  a  large  and  distressing  scale,  in  the 
ruinous  circumstances  into  which  many  private  fami- 
lies throughout  the  land  have  been  hurried,  as  well  as 
in  the  destitution  that  generally  prevails  among  the 


186  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

laboring  classes  of  society,  it  may  be  useful  to  re-carry 
the  subject  to  our  minds,  and  extract  wisdom,  resig- 
nation, and  comfort  from  our  meditations  upon  it. 
God  speaks  to  men  both  in  his  Providence  and  in  his 
Bible.  There  are  indisputably  rich  varieties  of  wis- 
dom in  his  Bible,  far  surpassing,  in  importance  to 
sinners,  any  of  the  lessons  which  are  taught  in  his 
Providence ;  still,  these  lessons  are  not  to  be  despised. 
The  vicissitudes  of  life  are  among  the  most  impressive 
and  instructive  of  them.  The  wonder  is  that  they  are 
so  generally  neglected.  Perhaps  it  is  because  they 
are  so  common  and  so  constant.  We  are  evermore  in 
the  midst  of  them  ;  and  as  the  hackneyed  grave-digger 
comes  to  be  as  unconcerned  about  death  as  the  monu- 
mental stones  around  him,  so  do  men  lose  the  keen 
sense  of  this  world's  distressing  alternations  of  good 
and  evil,  from  their  familiar  and  uninterrupted  expos- 
ure to  them.  We  have  already  endeavored  to  arrest 
the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the  subject  of  death ; 
so  would  we  now  submit  for  his  profitable  reflection, 
the  subject  of  life,  in  its  numerous  and  interesting 
mutations. 


PART   II. 

THE  LESSONS  FROM  GILBOA. 

life's  vicissitudes THESE  ARE    TESTS  OF    CHARACTER USE- 
FUL   INSTRUMENTS    OF  GOD THEY  WEAN  FROM  THIS  WORLD, 

AND    PREPARE    FOR    A    BETTER. 

I.  Human  life  is  exposed  to  many  vicissitudes. — 
The    proverbial    character    of   this  statement  almost 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  187 

forbids  our  illustrating  it.  But,  though  proverbial,  it 
is  seldom  that  the  thought  which  it  contains  is  suffi- 
ciently ruminated.  How  does  this  happen,  since  aU 
experience  its  truthfulness  ?  Can  it  be  that  some  classes 
are  an  exception  ?  If  so,  we  may  surely  look  for  that 
exception  among  the  first  grades  of  Hfe,  where  are  to 
be  found  what  are  called,  "the  children  of  fortune," 
whose  lives  describe  one  apparently  tranquil  course  to 
the  grave.  No  change  passes  over  them  but  what  is 
the  necessary  result  of  prolonged  being.  They  were 
born,  they  have  Hved,  and  they  die ;  they  were  born  to 
independence,  they  have  lived  in  plenty,  and  they 
descend  to  the  grave  in  honor.  Compared  with  the 
sons  of  toil  and  trouble,  there  does  not  seem  much 
irregularity  or  rudeness  here.  But  this  is  a  surface 
view  of  the  matter.  It  is  not  as  it  seems.  Here, 
also,  are  many  and  distracting  changes.  Go  to  the 
highest  examples  at  once.  Select  at  random  from 
history,  and  you  have  specimens  in  abundance.  Saul 
dies  on  Gilboa  ;  David,  his  harper,  reigns  in  his  stead ! 
How  much  of  profane  history  answers  in  kind  to 
this  sacred  vicissitude  !  The  descendant  of  a  long  line 
of  kings  is  a  fugitive  from  his  throne,  and  is  thereafter 
beheaded  in  his  capital.  A  citizen  of  obscure  birth, 
and  a  puritan  soldier,  seizes  the  sceptre,  makes  the 
commonwealth  the  most  powerful  dynasty  in  the 
world,  and  dies  the  far-famed  founder  and  protector 
of  his  country's  freedom.  An  ambitious  Corsican  wades 
to  an  imperial  throne  through  torrents  of  human  blood  ; 
Europe  quakes  under  the  tread  of  his  foot ;  his  word 
dethrones  hereditary  sovereigns,  whom  he  replaces 
with  the  menials  in  his  court,  or  the  brave  in  his 
camp.  Quickly  his  career  reaches  the  culminating 
point,  and  he  falls,  dragging  out  a  wretched  exile  on 
a  barren  ocean-rock,  not  forgetting,  but  forgotten  by 


188  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

all,  excepting  the  few  companions  who  share  with  him 
his  misfortunes.  A  wanderer  among  the  Alps,  though 
once  a  prince,  another  royal  scion  ekes  out  his  exist- 
ence by  instructing  the  peasantry  of  a  foreign  land ; 
bides  his  time  till  the  revolutionary  tempest  that  over- 
threw the  Bourbon  had  passed  away,  outlives  the  in- 
terregnum, watches  the  insane  policy  of  the  restored 
monarchy,  witnesses  its  second  fall,  becomes  the  na- 
tion's choice,  and  reigns ;  reigns  not  long,  till  he,  in 
his  turn,  is  the  victim  of  a  third  revolution,  and  now 
hides  his  head  among  a  people  he  would  have  injured, 
but  who  trample  not  upon  the  unfortunate.  The  pos- 
sessor of  a  splendid  mind,  greatly  enriched  by  the 
treasures  of  wisdom  and  science,  and  made  still  more 
illustrious  by  his  advocacy  of  every  good  and  noble 
cause,  lives  to  occupy  the  highest  station  in  his  coun- 
try below  the  throne,  but  outlives  his  magnificent 
reputation  and,  all  uninfluential  now,  squanders  his 
powerful  intellect  in  the  twaddle  of  political  imbecility. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  son  of  an  humble  agriculturist, 
with  nothing  but  a  sound  judgment  and  moral  recti- 
tude to  regulate  it,  conceives  a  great  idea,  perseveringly 
works  it  out,  and,  while  abiding  in  his  plebeian  rank, 
compels  legislative  respect,  and  becomes  an  authority 
in  the  councils  of  a  great  nation,  which  is  often  denied 
even  to  royalty  itself.  These  are  some  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  life  which  characterize  and  afflict  the  higher 
orders  of  society,  proving  that  even  they  are  no  ex- 
ception to  the  rule. 

But  "change"  is  written  upon  all  the  lintels  of  the 
numerous  door-posts  of  human  life  ;  change  of  the 
most  contradictory  and  surprising  nature,  and  of  which 
we  have  at  present  some  impressive  and  even  mourn- 
ful instances.  The  man  born  in  poverty  dies  in  pos- 
session  of   the  fields   upon  which,  in   early  life,  he 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  189 

earned  his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  The 
hereditary  owner  of  vast  estates  lives  to  see  them,  like 
dissolving  views,  fading  before  his  eyes,  and  he  expa- 
triates himself,  perhaps  to  draw  his  latest  sigh  in  the 
shambles  of  continental  debauchery.  The  diligent 
and  successful  merchant,  who  contemplated  an  evening 
of  life  placid  and  clear,  sees  the  fortune  of  his  industry 
fall  to  pieces  before  some  commercial  tornado  ;  and 
instead  of  enjoying  the  fruit  of  his  labors,  must  end 
his  days  in  contributing,  perhaps,  to  enrich  those  by 
whom  he  has  been  ruined.  The  father  of  a  hopeful 
family,  upon  whom  he  has  expended  time,  and  labor, 
and  money,  who  he  expected,  in  his  vanity,  might  be 
the  founders  of  an  illustrious  house,  and  transmit  to 
distant  generations  the  names  and  the  virtues  of  an- 
cestral antiquity,  lives  to  carry  every  one  of  them  to 
the  grave,  and  dies,  leaving  his  all  to  one  not  born  in 
his  house,  and  who  only  acts  the  part  of  a  chief 
mourner  out  of  deference  to  public  decency.  Such 
are  some  of  the  illustrations  of  life's  vicissitudes  upon 
what  may  be  called  the  medium  scale. 

But  who  requires  to  be  told  that  there  is  many  a 
touching,  overwhelming  story  of  this  kind  in  the  ex- 
perience of  all,  however  lowly  their  station,  or  unam- 
bitious their  projects!  We  are  sometimes  meeting 
with  the  disappointment,  sometimes  with  the  realiza- 
tion of  our  hopes.  We  are  seldom  without  the  garb 
of  mourning  in  our  houses ;  and  the  tear  is  often 
falling  over  the  graves  of  beauty,  affection,  and  friend- 
ship. There  is  nothing  abiding  here;  if  what  we 
fondly  call  our  own  does  not  fly  away  from  us,  we  go 
away  from  it.  In  undergoing  the  troubles,  and  fighting 
the  battles  of  life,  we  are  the  subjects  now  of  comfort, 
then  of  dejection ;  to-day  of  sunshine,  to-morrow  of 
gloom.     There  is  first  the  glee  of  hilarity,  then  the 


190  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

sigh  or  shriek  of  ruin.  Here  is  life  dancing  before  us 
in  the  nimbleness  and  agility  of  success ;  there  is  death 
riding  on  his  pale  horse.  This  is  Lazarus  in  rags  and 
sores ;  that  is  Dives  in  purple  and  plenty.  There 
lies  love  bleeding  ;  here  malignity  triumphing.  Here 
is  genuine  merit  neglected ;  there  patronized  ignorance 
installed.  Above,  is  duplicity  chuckling  over  its  dupes ; 
below,  is  honesty  paying  what  it  owes.  On  the  right 
is  the  good  man  struggling  with  adversity ;  on  the  left 
the  wicked  flourishing  like  a  green  bay  tree.  In  that 
corner,  genius  and  industry  are  amassing  fame  and 
opulence ;  in  this,  vice  and  dice  are  casting  both  away. 
What  a  world  is  this  we  live  in!  How  full  of 
changes  !  How  marred  with  misfortunes  this  hour  ; 
how  enlightened  with  prosperity  the  next !  Music  to- 
day ;  yelling  to-morrow !  Gold  for  a  year  or  two  ; 
copper  ever  after  !  Now  a  cradle  ;  then  a  coffin  I  Now 
smiling  on  our  mother's  bosom ;  then  asleep  in  our 
mother  earth !  A  curse  at  one  time ;  at  another  a 
blessing !  Faithful  here  ;  a  traitor  yonder  !  Once  a 
sycophant ;  again  a  tyrant !  Having  something,  and 
being  somebody,  for  awhile ;  dying  at  length,  having 
nothing,  and  being  nobody  !  O  man !  at  thy  best  estate 
thou  art  altogether  vanity !  O  life !  thou  art  but  a 
vapor,  that  appeareth  for  a  little  !  O  world !  thy  people 
and  thy  fashions  alike  pass  away !  And  yet  before 
this  man,  whose  "inhumanity  to  man  makes  countless 
thousands  mourn,"  these  countless  thousands  are  eager 
to  bend  the  knee ;  this  life,  short,  uncertain,  and  un- 
satisfying as  it  is,  is  eagerly  sought  after,  while  the 
long,  long  life  to  come  is  clean  forgotten ;  and  this 
world,  which,  after  all,  is  to  be  enveloped  in  destructive 
fire,  is  intensely  pursued,  while  the  eternal  glories  of  a 
celestial  inheritance  are  either  discredited  or  despised. 
"  Vanity  of  vanities,  saith  the  preacher  ;  all  is  vanity." 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  191 

II.  The  vicissitudes  of  life  are  severe  tests 
OF  character. — Subjected  to  this  test,  many  a  stately 
structure  of  human  pretensions  crumbles  into  dust. 
They  vanish  as  the  thistle-down  before  the  stormy 
wind.  The  friendships  of  life,  the  maxims  of  worldly 
morality,  and  the  principles  of  true  religion,  when 
passing  through  this  ordeal,  have  their  truth  or  falsity 
discerned. 

Of  the  friendships  of  the  world,  it  may  be  affirmed 
that  few  of  them  stand  the  test,  whether  we  view  it 
in  connection  with  the  prosperities  or  adversities  of 
life.  It  reads  either  way,  and  the  lessons  are  ever  the 
same.  We  have  a  friend,  as  he  is  called,  and  perhaps 
we  are  convinced  he  is  one.  He  is  of  the  same  stand- 
ing as  to  circumstances.  Mutually  dependent  on  each 
other,  we  are  in  the  habit  of  rendering  mutual  assist- 
ance. By  and  by  he  gets  the  start  of  us ;  we  continue 
poor,  or  of  moderate  possessions;  he  waxes  rich,  then 
great,  then  proud.  Where  is  his  friendship  ?  Let 
many  a  humiliating  tale  reply.  He  does  not  know 
us  now ;  he  is  ashamed  to  be  seen  in  our  presence,  or 
to  be  thought  of  our  acquaintance.  He  passes  by  on 
the  other  side,  and  eventually  our  society  is  despised. 
Or,  we  have  a  friend  who  is  presently  dependent  on 
our  humble  aid  to  get  on  in  life.  He  begins  life  on  the 
credit  of  our  good  name ;  he  suffers  reverses,  and  our 
means  help  him  out  of  them  ;  he  lives  upon  us ;  he  is 
a  debtor  to  a  large  amount  to  our  generosity,  sym- 
pathy, prudence,  and  counsels.  Suddenly  the  sun 
rises  upon  him  ;  he  is  exceedingly  fortunate  ;  he  gets 
into  society  above  our  rank  ;  his  head  gets  giddy  ;  his 
heart  gets  cold ;  he  remembers  us  no  more.  Unex- 
pectedly our  day  of  adversity  comes  ;  we  need  a  friend, 
assistance,  comfort,  and  advice.  We  go  to  him  in  our 
straits.     He  makes  every  effort  to  keep  out  of  our 


192  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

way  ;  but  we  are  importunate,  and  succeed  in  getting 
an  interview.  Alas !  he  cannot  help  us.  He  has  so 
many  claims,  so  many  pressing  demands  of  so  many 
different  kinds,  it  is  just  enough  to  ruin  one  to  attend 
to  one  half,  to  one  tithe  of  them  ;  we  are  gracefully, 
perhaps  insolently,  bowed  to  the  door.  This  is  no 
satire  ;  it  is  of  every-day  occurrence.  But  there  is  an 
oasis  even  in  this  desert.  With  some  truly  noble 
natures  it  is  widely  different.  Their  prosperity  never 
damages  their  ancient  friendships.  On  the  contrary, 
they  remember  Joseph,  even  when  in  the  dungeons  of 
Pharaoh,  and  hasten  to  deliver  him.  These  are  the 
friends  born  for  adversity.  The  friends  indeed  are 
the  friends  in  time  of  need,  but  theirs  are  angelic 
visits,  "  few  and  far  between." 

Apply  this  test  next  to  the  maxims  of  worldly  mor- 
ality, and  you  speedily  expose  them  to  just  contempt. 
This  world  is  very  wise  in  its  own  conceit.  In  itself, 
or  out  of  its  own  resources,  it  can  supply  principles 
for  all  conduct,  motives  for  all  duties,  and  strength  for 
every  trial.  This  world  is  a  boasting  philosopher.  It 
vaunteth  itself  mightily  on  its  own  magnanimity,  and 
pufFeth  itself  up  with  high  estimates  of  its  own  moral 
rectitude.  Religion  it  despises ;  it  has  no  need  of  it. 
It  may  be  useful  for  women,  perhaps,  and  children, 
but  it  is  too  pretty  a  conceit,  or  too  much  of  a  toy,  to 
be  made  the  protege  of  manly  dignity.  Let  us  see. 
There  is  one  of  its  votaries,  one  of  the  alumni  from  its 
university,  one  of  the  prophets  from  its  schools !  He 
is  soliloquizing.  Let  us  listen  to  him.  That  thing, 
he  says,  which  priests  call  religion,  is  a  hoax.  A  man 
has  no  need  of  it,  either  to  keep  him  moderate  in  the 
use  of  fortune,  or  unmoved  in  a  time  of  trial.  There 
is  that  in  man  which  will  uplift  him  above  the  storms 
of  life ;  his  is  a  noble  nature ;   and  there  is  that  in 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  193 

reason  which  will  comfort  man  in  sorrow ;  and  there 
is  that  in  philosophy  which  will  dispose  him  to  acqui- 
esce without  peevishness  in  the  decisions  of  fate. 

Such  is  the  theory  of  the  moralist.  Look  now  at 
his  practical  application  of  it.  He  is  lifted  into  opu- 
lence, clothed  with  honor,  and  endowed  with  power. 
Where  is  his  moderation  now  ?  He  lives  in  luxury 
and  debauchery.  Where  is  his  nobility  ?  He  puts  on 
the  fool's  cap  of  vanity,  and  struts  about,  thinking 
himself  more  than  man,  or  other  men  less  than  him. 
Where  are  his  compassions  ?  He  becomes  a  tyrant, 
and  shuts  up  his  bowels  of  mercy :  it  is  beneath  the 
dignity  of  a  great  man  to  weep — that  is  the  attribute 
of  soft  and  vulgar  natures.  But  let  us  see  him  thrown 
back  upon  obscurity  and  seeming  ruin.  If  it  be 
actual  disaster,  where  is  his  fortitude  ?  Can  that  dis- 
contented, spiritless  man  be  he  who  so  recently  ap- 
plauded the  maxims  of  this  world's  ethics  ?  If  fraudu- 
lent, where  are  his  honesty  and  integrity  ?  Can  that 
unprincipled  withholder  of  his  creditor's  goods,  that 
deceitful  exhibitor  of  false  balance  sheets,  can  this  be 
the  man  who  decried  religion,  and  commended  the 
dignity  of  human  nature  ?  Ah  !  how  loathsome  the 
picture  !  Let  us  turn  from  it  to  another  more  inviting 
and  instructive. 

The  principles  of  genuine  religion  are  also  severely 
tested  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  but  they  stand  that 
test.  Suppose  the  case  of  a  truly  good  man  rising 
into  affluence  and  influence.  He  abides  uncorrupted 
alike  in  faith  and  in  manners.  He  is  not  on  that 
account  made  sinfully  proud.  He  remembers  the 
days  of  his  poverty,  and  is  humble ;  the  God  who 
blessed  him,  and  is  grateful ;  the  poor,  who  are  his 
brethren,  and  for  whom  he  is  steward,  and  he  provides 
for  them ;    the  sick  and  the  friendless,  and  satisfies 


194  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

them  with  his  goodness,  and  his  better  counsels,  and 
his  best  prayers  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  other  claims,  he 
never  forgets  a  world  lying  in  wickedness,  but  devis- 
eth  liberal  things  for  its  conversion  to  God.  This 
man,  however,  is  very  far  from  being  free  from  the 
temptations  of  riches  and  worldly  importance.  His 
virtues  are  tried ;  his  heavenly-mindedness  is  oft  in 
danger.  He  is  apt  to  consider  his  earthly  his  best 
portion  ;  and  sometimes  he  may  even  forget,  and  think 
more  highly  of  himself  than  he  ought  to  do ;  yea,  he 
may  not  entirely  keep  himself  from  the  idolatry  which 
rich  men  give  to  Mammon.  But  when  at  any  time 
his  foot  slips  on  these  high  places,  he  is  sure  to  recover 
himself.  His  better  principles  regain  the  ascendancy  ; 
he  is  often  heard  saying,  "  How  then  can  I  do  this 
great  wickedness,  and  sin  against  God  ?"  "  Get  be- 
hind me,  Satan."  "  If  I  have  done  unjustly,  I  will 
do  so  no  more." 

But  to  do  a  good  man  justice,  we  must  scrutinize 
his  behavior  in  the  opposite  condition.  Suppose  him, 
then,  to  lose  his  all,  how  does  he  sustain  his  spirit? 
A  very  good,  and  a  very  great  man,  in  ancient  times, 
was  subjected  to  this  trial.  He  was  the  chief  magis- 
trate in  the  land  of  Uz.  He  had  many  sons  and 
daughters,  and  very  gi'eat  substance.  Satan  refused 
to  believe  him  a  disinterested  fearer  of  God.  "  Put 
forth  thine  hand  now,"  he  said  to  the  Lord,  "  and 
touch  all  that  Job  hath,  and  he  will  curse  thee  to  thy 
face."  God  put  forth  his  hand,  and  the  patriarch  was 
speedily  without  son  or  daughter,  flock  or  herd.  He 
was  totally  ruined  in  a  night's  time ;  hurled  from  the 
high  places  of  honor  and  abundance  into  the  lowest 
depths  of  distress.  How  did  he  stand  the  test  of  such 
an  appalling  vicissitude  ?  "  Then  Job  arose,  and  rent 
his  mantle,  and  shaved  his  lie^d,  and  fell  down  upon 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  195 

the  ground,  and  worshipped,  and  said,  Naked  came  I 
out  of  my  mother's  womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return 
thither :  the  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.  In  all  this 
Job  sinned  not,  nor  charged  God  foolishly."  Satan 
still  refused  to  give  him  credit  for  piety,  and  said  to 
God,  "  Skin  for  skin,  yea,  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he 
give  for  his  life :  but  put  forth  thine  hand  now,  and 
touch  his  bone  and  his  flesh,  and  he  will  curse  thee  to 
thy  face."  God  put  forth  his  hand,  and  immediately, 
from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  Job 
is  covered  with  loathsome  disease  ;  "  and  he  sat  down 
among  the  ashes.  Then  said  his  wife  unto  him.  Dost 
thou  still  retain  thine  integrity  ?  curse  God  and  die. 
But  he  said  unto  her.  Thou  speakest  as  one  of  the 
foolish  women  speaketh.  What !  shall  we  receive 
good  at  the  hand  of  God,  and  shall  we  not  receive 
evil?     In  all  this  did  not  Job  sin  with  his  lips." 

Few  good  men  have  been  so  severely  tried,  yet 
amid  their  diversified  probations,  none  of  them  are 
found  wanting ;  they  come  forth  from  the  furnaces 
worshipping  God.  Their  faith  never  fails,  their  con- 
solations never  flee  away,  their  hopes  are  never  extin- 
guished, and  their  resignation  is  often  truly  sublime. 
''  How  can  you  be  so  calm  and  cheerful  ?"  said  one 
to  an  eminent  Christian  whose  property  was  enveloped 
in  fire  ;  "  is  not  your  all  at  stake  ?"  "  Nay,"  was  the 
reply,  "it  is  not  so ;  my  all  is  laid  up  where  fire  can- 
not reach,  and  where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  cor- 
rupt." The  high  priest  "held  his  peace"  when  his 
sons  were  slain.  The  Shunamite  said,  when  her  only 
son  died,  "  It  is  well."  The  Hebrew  children,  rather 
than  worship  an  idol,  walked  in  the  fire.  Daniel, 
rather  than  be  prayerless,  lay  down  in  the  den  of  lions. 
The  apostles  shed  their  blood,   and  laid  down  their 


196  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

lives,  rather  than  put  their  Lord  to  shame.  And  all 
the  truly  faithful  can  say,  "  Though  he  should  slay 
me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him."  The  secret  lies  here, 
they  have  all  drunk  into  his  spirit  who,  in  the  hour 
of  unutterable  agony,  and  with  the  curse  due  to  sin 
upon  him,  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  said, 
"  Father,  if  thou  be  willing,  remove  this  cup  from 
me ;  nevertheless,  not  my  will,  but  thine,  be  done." 

III.  God  employs  the  vicissitudes  of  life  to 
WORK  OUT  HIS  OWN  ENDS. — Had  this  world  continued 
the  abode  of  innocence,  there  could  have  been  no 
moral  necessity  for  any  process,  by  which  its  rational 
inhabitants  might  be  induced  to  desire  a  change  of 
habitation.  But  this  is  now  a  sinful  and  miserble 
world  ;  and  it  is  no  more  than  what  might  be  expected 
of  Him  who  laid  down  his  life  for  us,  than  that  he 
should  alienate  our  affections  from  it,  and  inspire  us 
with  ardent  longings  after  the  better  country.  To 
bring  men  to  heaven,  Christ  died  ;  and  there  is  nothing 
in  the  providences  of  the  Father  running  counter  to 
the  designs  of  the  Son  in  redemption.  What  a  mighty 
and  imposing  structure  of  truth  may  be  reared  on 
these  two  simple  propositions  of  our  Lord :  "The  very 
hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered  ;"  even  a  sparrow 
"  shall  not  fall  on  the  ground  without  your  Father !" 
Herein  lie  the  weighty  elements  of  the  argument  for 
a  special  as  well  as  a  general  Providence.  These  say- 
ings of  Christ  are  sufficient  reasons  for  believing  that 
God  has  a  minute  oversight  and  control  of  everything 
that  here  below  comes  to  pass.  He  reigns  throughout 
all  his  kingdoms  of  nature,  providence,  and  grace. 
As  to  his  administration  of  the  affairs  of  this  world, 
we  may  rest  assured  that  he  is  everywhere,  and  in 
everything ;  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  mightiest  em- 
pires ;  in  the  creation  of  the  atom,  and  in  the  oommis- 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  197 

sion  of  the  archangel ;  in  the  calm  and  in  the  tempest ; 
in  the  palace,  and  in  the  cottage;  in  the  career  of 
temporal  prosperity,  and  in  the  whirlwind  of  temporal 
disaster ;  in  the  songs  of  the  happy,  and  in  the  tears 
of  the  sad;  in  the  blessings  of  the  righteous,  and  in 
the  judgments  of  the  wicked.  He  is,  therefore,  in  all 
the  vicissitudes  of  human  life,  and  he  is  in  them  for 
the  very  same  reason  that  he  is  in  everything  else, 
namely,  to  promote  his  own  ends.  And  what  are 
these  ?  The  good  of  his  creatures^  and  the  glory  of 
his  name. 

He  is  in  them  for  the  good  of  his  creatures. 
He  is  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that  all 
should  come  unto  him,  and  live.  He  finds  man  a  fool 
as  well  as  a  knave,  stupid  as  well  as  wicked.  He 
therefore  corrects  him  for  his  folly,  and  endeavors  to 
make  him  wise.  One  of  his  methods  for  accomplish- 
ing this  is  to  show  him  the  vanity  of  this  world.  He 
permits  him  to  go  the  full  round  of  its  pleasures,  and 
to  take  a  drink  out  of  all  its  cups,  and  then  gives  him 
to  experience  their  bitterness,  and  to  test  their  worth- 
lessness.  His  purpose  is  to  induce  man  to  taste  and 
see  that  only  God  is  good.  Alas !  how  few  are  apt 
learners  in  this  school  of  Providence  !  They  resist  the 
efforts  thus  made  to  bring  them  to  repentance  and 
holiness.  It  is  all  one  to  them  whether  they  have 
plenty  or  poverty ;  whether  bereaved,  or  full  of  chil- 
dren ;  whether  whirling  in  the  giddiness  of  greatness, 
or  shivering  in  the  damps  of  death  ;  they  repent  not, 
they  believe  not.  In  the  enjoyment  of  his  kindness 
they  wax  fat  and  kick,  and  forget  God ;  and  in  the 
endurance  of  his  chastisements,  they  curse  God,  and 
die.  How  true  the  saying  of  the  wise  man,  "Though 
thou  shouldst  bray  a  fool  in  a  mortar  among  wheat 


198  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

with  a  pestle,  yet  will  not  his  foolishness  depart  from 
him !" 

But  it  is  not  uniformly  so.  Scripture  and  our  own 
observation  furnish  us  with  many  illustrations  of  the 
benefit  to  be  derived  from  the  vicissitudes  of  life. 
Joseph,  Moses,  David,  Manasseh,  and  many  others, 
were  all  improved  by  their  various  experiences.  These 
fitted  them  for  the  duties,  the  trials,  and  the  variations 
of  life.  "It  is  good  for  me,"  says  one  of  them,  "  that 
I  was  afflicted.  Ere  I  was  afflicted  I  went  astray.  I 
know,  O  Lord,  that  thy  judgments  are  right,  and  that 
thou  in  faithfulness  hast  afflicted  me." 

Were  it  not  for  these  trying  ordeals,  good  men 
would  be  apt  to  forget  their  pilgrim  character,  and 
perhaps  take  themselves  to  the  unreserved  service  of 
Mammon.  God  knows  best  each  man's  temperament 
and  infirmity.  He  only  reads  each  man's  history  to 
its  closing  chapter.  He,  therefore,  is  the  best  judge 
as  to  whether  they  should  or  should  not  have  worldly 
prosperity.  He  knows  when  to  turn  the  tide  of 
fortune,  and  leave  them,  as  it  were,  stranded  on  some 
inhospitable  shore.  They  may  be  better  able  to  bear 
the  full  flow  of  success  at  some  future  time.  In  these 
days  of  commercial  panic  and  disaster,  when  the 
savings  of  industry  and  the  treasures  of  generations 
are  tumbling  above  our  heads,  good  men,  who  are 
losing  their  earthly  al],  may  rest  assured,  that  the 
moment  for  encountering  such  losses  was,  to  their  best 
interests,  a  moment  of  danger.  Their  whole  future 
destiny,  it  may  be,  depended  on  the  issues  of  that 
moment.  Their  incorruptible  inheritance  in  heaven 
was  perhaps  secured,  when  their  corruptible  treasure 
on  earth  took  wings  and  fled  away.  It  is  good  for 
them  that  God  does  not  leave  it  to  their  choice, 
whether  they  will  retain  or  lose  their  monies  and 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  199 

their  lands.  He  solves  that  problem  for  them,  and 
will  by  and  by  convince  them  that  the  disappearance 
of  the  shadow  was  necessary  to  the  security  of  the 
substance.  Stripped  naked  of  this  earth,  that  flows 
with  tears  and  cares,  they  are  then  infeft  into  the  land 
that  flows  with  milk  and  honey.  They  are  now  in- 
doctrinated into  the  truth  about  the  real  vanity  of  life, 
and  are  more  assiduously  than  ever  set  on  making 
clear  and  good  their  title  to  the  skies.  Hence  it  is, 
also,  that  God  gets  his  use  out  of  them  as  experienced 
teachers  of  others  in  the  ways  of  wisdom.  He  gets 
the  use  of  their  example  for  those  that  are  around 
and  to  come  after  them,  and  his  own  cause  on  the 
earth  is  thereby  maintained  and  promoted,;  which 
reminds  us  that, 

God,  in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  seeks  his 
OWN  GLORY.  How  eminently  does  this  appear  in  the 
chequered  history  of  the  patriarchs,  and  especially  of 
Saul  and  David !  That  which  looked  to  the  eye  of 
nature  dark  and  unpromising,  was  surely  and  directly 
working  out  the  glory  of  Jehovah.  Saul  rises  and 
falls,  that  David  might  fall  and  rise.  So  it  seemed  to 
be.  But  was  there  nothing  underneath  all  the  turn- 
ings and  windings  of  these  two  lives,  of  far  higher 
import  than  their  own  terrestrial  significance  ?  There 
certainly  was.  God  was  thereby  preparing  his  chosen 
one — one  of  the  most  illustrious  types  of  the  Messiah 
— for  laying  broad,  deep,  and  secure,  the  foundations 
of  that  kingdom,  whose  career  of  reverses  or  victories 
was  sublimely  figurative  of  the  future  history  of  that 
church  for  which  his  incarnate  Son  was  to  shed  his 
blood.  He  was  thereby  qualifying  for  his  future  high 
position,  one,  from  whose  loins  the  Saviour  was  to 
proceed,  and  in  whose  experiences,  as  recorded  in  the 


200  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

Psalms,  the  future  believer  was  to  have  one  of  his 
chiefest  enjoyments. 

And  though  each  good  man's  history  may  not  be  so 
clearly  revealed  to   us    in  all  its  bearings  upon  the 
glory  of  Jehovah,  we  can  have  no  doubt  that,  whether 
he  eats,  or  drinks,  or  whatever  he  does,  he  does  all  to 
the  glory  of  God.     If  he  lives,  he  lives  to  the  Lord ; 
and  if  he  dies,  he  dies  to  the  Lord  :  living  or  dying,  he 
is  the  Lord's.     It  may  not  be  easy,  perhaps  not  possi- 
ble, for  us  at  present  to  trace  the  connection   that 
exists  between  all  the  vicissitudes  in  the  history  of 
man  in  this  world,  and  the  advancement  of  the  spirit- 
ual kingdom  of  Christ ;  but  that  there  is  such  a  con- 
nection we  must  believe.      Jesus  is  exalted  to  the 
right  hand  of  his  Father.     He  is  indeed  head  over  all 
things   to  the    church.     Everything  is  put  into  his 
hand,   every  person  under  his  authority,   and  every 
devil  beneath  his  feet ;  and  he  will  come  at  the  last 
day  to  be  seen  of  all  his  saints,  and  to  be  glorified  of 
them  that  believe.     Then  will  be  seen  the  most  aston- 
ishing coincidences  and  alliances.     The  saint  will  see 
that  his  cup  of  tears  was  really  filled  with  the  water 
of  life ;  that  his  downfalls  were  his  true  uprisings ; 
that  his  losses  were  his  gains;  and  that  his  earthly 
biography,  when  translated  into  the  language  of  the 
heavenly  Canaan,  describes  his  course  below  to  have 
been,  without  exception,  the  direct  and  safe  road  to 
the  chief  end  of  man. 

IV,  The  vicissitudes  of  life  ought  to  wean  our 

AFFECTIONS  FROM  THIS  WORLD,  AND    FIX  THEM   ON  THINGS 

ABOVE. — Such  was  the  effect  these  vicissitudes  had 
upon  the  man  of  Uz.  "I  loathe  it,"  he  said;  "I 
would  not  live  alway."  David  also  thus  improved 
them;  ''And  he  said,  Oh  that  I  had  wings  fike  a 
dove !  for  then  would  I  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest.     I 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  201 

would  hasten  my  escape  from  the  windy  storm  and 
tempest."     Likewise  also  did  Paul;  hence  his  "desire 
to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ."     When  changes  and 
trials  lead  us  forth  from  Egypt,  and  fill  us  with  ardent 
longings  after  the  heavenly  Canaan,  then  they  may 
be  said  to  have  been  sanctified  to  us  ;  and  for  such  a 
sanctification  of  them,  we  ought  all  to  be  most  solici- 
tous with   God.     We   cannot   doubt   that   he  sends 
affliction  to  make  this  world  bitter  to  our  taste,  and  to 
generate  within  us  holier  aspirations.     When,  then, 
we  pass  through  sudden,  and  it  may  be,  trying  changes 
in  life,  we  ought  to  receive  their  proper  instruction, 
and  withdraw  our  hearts  from  the  phantoms  of  time, 
to  give  them  to  the  realities  of  eternity.     Every  vicis- 
situde is  vocal  with  this  message  :  "  Arise,  and  depart ; 
for  this  is  not  your  rest ;"  and  all  good  men  who  hear 
"the  rod,  and  who  hath  appointed  it,"  will  reply, 
"  Here  we  have  no  continuing  city,  but  we  seek  one 
to  come."     The  love  of  the  world  is  the  besetting  sin 
of  mankind,  and  it  is  exceedingly  prejudicial  to  re- 
ligion.   It  is  utterly  incompatible  with  the  love  of  God, 
and  stands  like  an  Alpine  range  frowning  upon  the 
progress  of  those  better  principles  and  feelings  which 
distinguish    the  spirituality  of  saints.     Consequently 
our  heavenly  Father  must  strike  a  fatal  blow  at  its 
roots  in  the  hearts  of  his  children,  who  never  give  more 
unequivocal  proof  of  their  adoption,  than  when  they 
sustain  adversity  without  murmur,  and  sing  of  mercy 
in  the  midst  of  judgments.     We  do  not  know  a  better 
test  of  saintship  than  that  which  is  given  by  the  man 
who  can  say,  and  that  with  perfect  truthfulness,  and 
it  is  indeed  sublhne  to  be  able  so  to  say  it,  "  Whom 
have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  in  all 
the  earth  that  I  desire  besides  thee.     O  Lord,  thou  art 
all  my  salvation,  and  all  my  desire." 

9* 


202  MOUNT    GILBOA. 

When  we  take  a  calm  survey  of  this  life,  with  its 
stern  variety  of  change,  we  may  wonder  that  any 
should  be  attached  to  it.  But  when  we  meditate  on 
the  splendid  hopes  of  Christians,  in  respect  of  the  life 
that  is  to  come,  we  confess  it  difficult  to  account  for 
the  touching,  tasting,  and  handling  of  this  world  that 
obtains  among  them.  They  not  only  have  received 
the  promise,  but  they  live  in  the  hope  of  a  better  and 
more  enduring  inheritance.  What  a  sad  contradic- 
tion to  their  Christian  profession  is  the  longing,  linger- 
ing look  they  cast  behind  on  the  gold  and  silver,  on  the 
friendships  and  partnerships  of  the  world  they  are 
quitting  !  Let  us  not  be  taken  by  surprise,  if  He  who 
has  prepared  treasures  and  mansions  for  them  in 
heaven  should  dash  their  earthly  cup  from  their  lips, 
and  grind  their  idols  to  powder.  They  may  be  so 
foolish  as  to  risk  the  loss  of  a  celestial  inheritance  to 
grasp  a  handful  of  dust;  but  He  is  not  faithless, 
neither  quick  to  anger,  else  he  might  leave  them  to 
go  after  other  gods,  and  be  ruined  for  ever.  He  re- 
members his  covenant  with  them  in  the  days  of  their 
espousals,  and  secures  their  opulence  in  eternity,  by 
meting  out  to  them  their  poverty  in  time.  It  will  bo 
well  for  you,  ye  sons  of  men  who  are  now  passing 
under  the  rod  of  God,  if  all  your  evil  things  are  given 
you  here.  O  listen  to  the  warnings  of  this  mutable 
state,  and  believe  these  trials  to  be  treasures  I  They 
serve  you  as  the  angel  served  Lot  and  his  family. 
While  you  linger,  they  lay  hold  upon  your  hand,  and 
upon  the  hand  of  your  wives,  and  upon  the  hand  of 
your  daughters,  the  Lord  being  merciful  unto  you; 
and  they  "  bring  you  forth,  and  set  you  without  the 
city,"  and  say  unto  you,  "  Escape  for  your  life  ;  look 
not  behind  you,  neither  stay  you  in  all  the  plain; 
escape  to  the  mountains,  lest  you  be  consumed." 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  203 

How  eloquently,  we  may  say,  how  appallingly, 
have  the  vicissitudes  of  life  been  speaking  to  us  during 
the  year  that  is  departing  I  The  veteran  of  fourscore 
does  not  recollect  such  an  another,  so  full  of  all  the  ills 
to  which  flesh  is  heir.  At  many  a  fireside  there  is 
deep  distress ;  many  a  Rachel  sits  weeping,  and  re- 
fuses to  be  comforted ;  and  not  a  few,  plunged  from 
plenty  into  difficulty,  bewail  the  losses  and  the  crosses 
of  life.  The  opening  and  the  closing  of  this  year  will 
be  remembered  by  many,  not  for  its  domestic  and 
social  enjoyments,  but  for  the  starless  and  troubled 
sky  underneath  which  they  have  mourned  and  wept. 
But,  Christians,  your  canopy  is  not  the  starry  firma- 
men,  else  you,  too,  might  lament  the  absence  of  the 
sun  and  the  moon.  Yours  is  the  bright  blue  arch  of 
Paradise,  where  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  ever  shines, 
where  the  bright  and  morning  star  ever  twinkles,  and 
where  no  clouds  obscure,  nor  tempests  roar.  Act, 
then,  your  part  accordingly.  Let  the  world,  peevish 
and  wretched  in  the  midst  of  its  \dcissitudes,  behold 
in  you  a  noble  and  commanding  specimen  of  the 
power  of  that  faith,  which  makes  you  independent  of 
time,  and  thoroughly  confident  in  eternity  for  your 
chief  and  indestructible  possessions.  Be  not  afraid  of 
encompassing,  neither  despond  before  expected  evils. 
The  storm  will  soon  expend  itself  It  may  level  in  its 
fury  the  mightiest  structures  of  genius  and  industry; 
it  may  tear  up  the  mountains  by  the  root,  and  fling 
them  into  the  sea,  and  all  the  waters  thereof  may 
roar.  Fear  not,  you  are  safe ;  and  your  best  posses- 
sions are  safe ;  and  your  much-loved  Christian  friends 
are  safe — perfectly  safe.  Your  all  is  insured  in  the 
chancery  above,  and  the  King  of  Righteousness  has 
sworn  an  oath,  that  when  you  reach  your  majority, 
you  shall  fully  enjoy  your  inheritance.      Then  the 


204  MOUNT    GILJJOA. 

heavens  and  the  earth  are  to  pass  away  with  a  great 
noise,  but  you  will  see  the  new  Jerusalem  appearing 
as  they  fade  from  the  view.  Maintain  your  confi- 
dence ;  no  panic  can  reach  the  treasury  of  God.  Every 
farthing  will  be  paid  you ;  no  thief  can  break  through 
and  steal  there ;  all  you  get  you  will  keep,  and  enjoy 
forever.  There  you  will  pine  under  no  disease ;  en- 
counter no  death  ;  be  re-united  to  the  "  brightest  and 
best  of  the  sons  of  creation;"  and  in  the  bosom  of 
God  you  will  live  and  be  perfectly  happy  through  all 
eternity. 

Believe  this,  ye  men  of  God,  and  then  go  through 
your  present  trials  and  duties,  singing  with  heavenly 
melody.  ''  Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom, 
neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines ;  the  labor  of  the 
olive  shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat ; 
the  ilock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there 
shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls ;  yet  I  will  rejoice  in 
the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation.  The 
Lord  is  my  strength,  and  he  will  make  my  feet  like 
hinds'  feet,  and  he  will  make  me  to  walk  upon  mine 
high  places." 

Believe  this,  also,  ye  that  at  present  do  groan  in 
the  earthly  house  of  your  tabernacle,  and  yet  despise 
the  consolations  and  supports  with  which  the  gospel 
would  supply  you.  Your  earthly  house,  as  well  as 
that  of  the  saint,  must  be  dissolved ;  but  O,  how  dif- 
ferent the  result !  You  have  not  the  blessed  hope  of 
the  "  building  of  God,  the  house  not  made  with  hands, 
eternal  in  the  heavens."  In  this  you  groan,  but  with- 
out any  earnest  desire  to  be  clothed  upon  with  thai 
house  wliich  is  from  heaven ;  consequently,  not  being 
clothed,  you  shall  be  found  naked. 

Believe  this,  then,  that  if  you  seek  first  the  king- 
dom of  God,  every  other  needed  blessing  will  be  added 


MOUNT    GILBOA.  205 

to  you ;  and  when  you  are  called  hence  at  death,  you 
will  be  received  into  everlasting  habitations. 

Believe  not,  and  all  is  lost.  Time  and  treasures 
are  lost  below,  and  eternal  life  you  can  never  enjoy 
above.  Do  not  forget  that  "  their  sorrows  shall  be 
multiplied  that  hasten  after  another  god ;"  multiplied 
amid  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  amid  the  terrors  of  a 
godless  death-bed,  before  the  tribunal  of  a  righteous 
Judge,  and  throughout  the  ages  of  endless  woe. 


MOUNT    CARMEL, 


THE    FALL    OF    IDOLATRY. 
PART   I. 

THE    SITUATIOM    AND    APPEARANCE    OF    THE    MOUNTAIN. 

Mount  Carmel  is  in  Palestine,  and  forms  the 
southern  promontory  of  the  bay  of  Acre,  which  lies 
on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Mediterranean.  It  is  one 
of  a  range  of  hills  which  extends  northwest  from  the 
plain  of  Esdraelon.  The  extent  of  this  range  is  about 
six  miles,  and  it  is  generally  designated  as  Carmel.  It 
is  about  fifteen  hundred  feet  high,  and  forms  the  only 
great  promontory  upon  the  coast  of  Palestine. 

The  scenery  on  this  mountain  seems  to  have  been 
very  picturesque.  In  his  description  of  the  spouse, 
Solomon  says,  "  Thine  head  upon  thee  is  like  Carmel ;" 
alluding  to  the  fine  symmetry  and  beauty  of  its  sum- 
mit. Isaiah  sings  of  the  "  excellency  of  Carmel,"  as 
descriptive  of  the  solitary  places  and  the  desert  in  the 
times  of  the  gospel ;  and  there  are  allusions  to  its 
rich  pasturage  by  the  prophets  Jeremiah  and  Amos. 
Modern  travellers  tell  us  that  it  fully  merits  these 
praises,  and  that  the  meaning  of  the  word  Carmel, 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  207 

which  is  *'  the  country  of  vineyards  and  gardens,"  is 
sustained  by  its  beauty  and  fertility.  "On  its  sum- 
mit," we  are  told,  "are  pines  and  oaks,  and  farther 
down,  olives  and  laurel  trees,  everywhere  plentifully 
watered.  It  gives  rise  to  a  multitude  of  crystal  brooks, 
the  largest  of  which  is  the  so-called  fountain  of  Elijah, 
and  they  all  hurry  along,  between  banks  thickly  over- 
grown with  bushes,  to  the  Kishon.  Every  species  of 
tillage  succeeds  here  admirably  under  this  mild  and 
cheerful  sky.  The  prospect  from  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  over  the  gulf  of  Acre  and  its  fertile  shores, 
and  over  the  blue  heights  of  Lebanon,  and  the  white 
cape,  is  enchanting."  "  In  front  the  view  extends  to 
the  distant  horrizon,  over  the  dark  blue  waters  of  the 
Mediterranean;  behind  stretches  the  great  plain  of 
Esdraelon,  and  the  mountains  of  the  Jordan  and 
Judea  ;  below,  on  the  right  hand,  lies  the  little  city  of 
Acre,  diminished  to  a  mere  speck  ;  while  in  the  far 
distance  beyond,  the  eye  rests  on  the  summits  of 
Lebanon,  and  turning  to  track  the  coast  on  the  left 
hand,  takes  in  the  ruins  of  Caesarea,  the  city  of  Herod 
and  the  Roman  sovereigns  of  Palestine." 

In  this  mountain  there  are  said  to  be  nearly  a 
thousand  caves  or  grottoes,  and  in  one  part  about  four 
hundred  of  these  are  adjacent  to  each  other,  having 
windows  and  places  for  sleeping  below  in  the  rock. 
These  caves  have  very  narrow  entrances  ;  only  one 
individual  can  enter  at  a  time,  and  they  are  so  crooked 
that  instantly  you  enter  you  disappear,  unless  closely 
followed.  This  helps  us  to  understand  that  passage 
in  Amos,  where  Jehovah  says  of  those  who  endeavor 
to  escape  his  judgments,  "  though  they  hide  them- 
selves in  the  top  of  Carmel,  I  will  search  and  take 
them  out  thence."  In  ancient  times,  these  caves 
were   the   abodes   of    prophets.     Elijah    and   Elisha 


208  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

often  resorted  to  them.  At  present,  a  cave  called 
by  the  name  of  Elijah  is  shown  by  the  monk  who 
attends  upon  a  Moslem  temple,  now  built  near  the 
spot.  On  the  summit  was  once  a  convent,  the  prop- 
erty of  the  order  called  the  Carmelite  monks.  This 
structure,  however,  was  destroyed  by  Addallah  Pacha  ; 
but  it  has  of  late  years,  we  regret  to  say,  been  rebuilt 
on  a  somewhat  imposing  scale  by  the  aid  of  contribu- 
tions from  Europe.  The  site  of  the  building  is  sup- 
posed to  be  on  the  spot  on  which  Elijah  offered  sacrifice. 
The  finest  of  the  caves  in  Carmel  is  that  called  "the 
School  of  Eliaz."  It  is  a  well-hewn  chamber,  cut 
entirely  out  of  the  rock.  It  is  twenty  paces  long, 
twelve  broad,  and  fifteen  to  eighteen  high.  Pococke 
declares  it  to  be  one  of  the  finest  he  ever  saw. 

The  history  of  this  mountain  is  associated  with  one 
of  the  most  impressive  and  sublime  scenes  recorded 
in  the  Old  Testament  scriptures.  It  was  upon  one  of 
its  sides  that  the  prophet  Elijah  and  the  prophets  of 
Baal  met  to  try  the  grand  question  as  to  whether 
Jehovah  or  Baal  was  God.  The  exact  place  where 
the  events  narrated  in  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  the 
first  Book  of  Kings  occurred,  cannot  be  satisfactorily 
determined,  though  there  seems  to  be  no  doubt  on  the 
minds  of  some  who  visit  Carmel,  that  the  slaughter  of 
the  priests  of  Baal  took  place  beside  the  river  Kishon, 
at  the  base  of  the  mountain,  and  that  the  sacrifice 
must  have  been  made  on  that  side  of  its  summit  which 
overlooks  the  river  Kishon  and  the  plain  of  Jezreel. 
Mr.  Carne  says,  "  There  can  be  no  illusion  with  respect 
to  the  scene  of  the  memorable  descent  of  the  fire  from 
heaven.  When  all  Israel  was  gathered  together  unto 
Carmel,  it  was  clearly  on  this  side  the  mountain,  where 
it  descends  gradually  into  the  noble  plain  beneath. 
The   spot  was  finely  chosen  by  the  prophet  for  the 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  209 

spectacle  of  his  sacrifice,  since  the  multitude  of  the 
people  coming  from  the  region  of  Samaria  might 
stand  with  perfect  convenience  in  the  splendid  and 
open  area  of  Esdraelon,  which  is  here  terminated  at 
the  foot  of  Carmel.  The  declivity  of  the  mountain, 
its  brink  dark  with  woods,  and  its  sides  covered  with 
the  richest  pasture,  looks  over  a  vast  extent  of  country 
on  every  side.  From  the  hills  of  Samaria,  Cana,  and 
Gilboa  the  miracle  might  have  been  beheld.  And  to 
the  eager  gaze  of  the  Israelites  on  the  plain,  the 
prophets  of  the  groves,  their  useless  altars,  and  the 
avenging  messenger  of  God,  were  as  distinct  as  if 
the  scene  had  been  acted  at  their  feet." 

With  these  brief  notices  of  the  topography  of  Car- 
mel, we  would  now  proceed  to  slcetch  the  interesting 
meeting  that  was  held  upon  it  in  the  days  of  Ahab 
king  of  Israel,  between  Elijah  the  Tishbite  and  the 
prophets  of  Baal.^ 


PART   II. 

THE  SCENE  ON  CARMEL. 

IDOLATRY      OF     BAAL MINISTRY     OF    ELIJAH HIS     PROPOSAL 

TO     AHAB CONCOURSE    ON    CARMEL FAILURE    OF   BAAL 

TRIUMPH    OF    THE    TISHBITE. 

Israel  had  had  many  kings  since  Saul  fell  on  Gil- 
boa  :  some  of  them  most  unprincipled  and  despicable 
men,  but  none  more  so  than  Ahab.  The  crowning 
iniquity  of  this  prince  seems  to  have  been  his  impor- 

*  1  Kings  xviii. 


210  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

tation  of  the  idol  called  Baal,  from  the  Sidonians,  into 
Israel.  Baal  or  Bel  signifies  governor  or  ruler,  and 
was  the  name  given  in  the  east  to  the  chief  male  idol 
of  the  heathen.  The  female  idol,  corresponding  in 
importance  to  Baal,  was  called  Ashtoreth,  who  was 
represented  by  one  or  other  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 
Jeremiah  speaks  of  the  "  queen  of  heaven ;"  and  the 
probability  is  that  the  moon  was  worshipped  by  the 
Sidonians  and  Philistines  under  this  title.  Baal  was 
thought  to  be  the  most  ancient  god  of  the  Canaanites, 
and  had  many  prophets  and  temples,  where  bloody 
sacrifices  were  offered,  and  shameful  rites  observed  in 
his  name.  According  to  Jeremiah,  these  sacrifices 
were  sometimes  human.  Altars  were  erected  to  him 
also  on  the  tops  of  hill  and  houses,  and  in  the  groves, 
where,  on  festival  occasions,  the  most  shocking  abomi- 
nations were  perpetrated.  Ahab  had  married  Jezebel, 
daughter  of  an  idolatrous  king ;  and  under  her  sway 
the  worship  of  this  idol  had  become  sinfully  popular 
in  Israel.  Four  hundred  and  fifty  priests  served  at 
his  altar,  and  to  Ashtoreth  nearly  an  equal  number 
were  appointed.  The  judgments  of  Jehovah  were,  in 
consequence,  sent  down  upon  the  land.  He  who  had 
declared  from  Sinai,  "  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  gods 
before  me,"  must  needs  arise  and  rebuke  the  abound- 
ing iniquity.  But  "  the  iniquity"  is  under  the  patron- 
age and  protection  of  the  king  and  queen  ;  and  where 
shall  one  be  found  brave  enough  to  go  up  and  assail 
it  on  the  throne  ?  He  who  has  said,  *'  My  glory  will 
I  not  give  to  another,  neither  my  praise  to  graven 
images,"  has  his  instruments  always  ready.  Hence 
it  is  written,  "  And  Elijah  the  Tishbite,  who  was 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Gilead,  said  unto  Ahab,  As 
the  Lord  liveth,  before  whom  I  stand,  there  shall 
not  be  dew  nor  rain  these  years,  but  according  to  my 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  211 

word."  Here  was  moral  courage  of  a  sublime  order. 
What  was  at  stake  ?  Not  only  his  own  life,  for 
daring  thus  to  reprimand  royalty,  but,  what  was  of 
more  consequence,  the  honor  of  his  God,  if,  perad- 
venture,  his  prophecy  concerning  the  rain  should  fail. 
Bold,  however,  though  it  was,  Elijah  was  safe  in  both 
respects. 

The  curse  of  Elijah  had  now  been  on  Ahab  and  his 
people  for  nearly  three  years.  No  rain  nor  dew  had 
fallen,  and  famine,  of  necessity,  ensued.  The  prophet, 
meanwhile,  had  been  hid  for  a  season  by  the  brook 
Cherith,  and  latterly  in  Zarephath.  He  was  now  re- 
manded to  Ahab,  who  is  represented  as  wandering  up 
and  down  the  country  searching  for  food,  not  to  save 
his  subjects,  but  his  horses  and  mules  alive.  At 
length  these  two  men  meet ;  that  stern  and  fearless 
seer,  and  that  foolish  and  wicked  tyrant  meet.  "  Art 
thou  he,"  asks  the  insolent  Ahab,  "  Art  thou  he  that 
troubleth  Israel  ?"  Elijah  denies  the  charge,  and  re- 
torts upon  the  royal  idolater.  The  contest  is  under- 
stood to  be,  not  between  Elijah  and  Ahab,  but  between 
Jehovah  and  Baal ;  Jehovah  being  represented  by  the 
prophet,  and  Baal  by  the  king.  The  king  puts  him- 
self forth  as  the  champion  of  the  idol,  Elijah  stands 
up  for  the  supremacy  of  Jehovah.  How  is  the  dispute 
to  be  settled  ?  How  is  all  Israel  to  be  convinced  that 
the  Lord,  he,  and  he  only,  is  God,  and  that  Baal  is 
one  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  idols  of  the  heathen  ?  This 
is  certainly  a  crisis,  a  very  awful  and  portentous  crisis  ; 
and  similar  to  this,  we  may  notice,  is  in  all  lands  the 
question  of  the  gospel  enterprise.  That  question  is, 
"Whether  shall  Jehovah  or  Baal  be  worshipped  as  the 
true  Deity  ?  When  we  send  the  gospel  to  idolaters, 
and  challenge  their  priests  to  come  forth  and  make  the 
grand  experiment  as  to  who  is  right  and  who  wrong 


212  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

in  the  creeds  severally  confessed,  we  feel  the  occasion 
to  be  solemn  and  important.  We  watch  the  progress 
of  the  grand  combat  between  truth  and  error  with 
breathless  attention,  and  wait  the  result  in  our  closets, 
and  on  our  knees.  Let  us,  in  the  scene  before  us, 
approach  such  a  trial  of  piety  against  impiety  :  neither 
let  us  be  afraid  of  the  issue,  for  "  who  hath  hardened 
himself  against  God,  and  prospered  ?" 

What  did  Elijah  propose  ?  It  was  that  all  Israel 
should  be  convened  at  a  place  specified,  Mount  Carmel, 
to  be  the  judges  between  them,  and  that  the  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  priests  of  Baal,  and  the  four  hundred 
prophets  of  the  groves,  who  ate  at  Jezebel's  table, 
should  be  brought  there  also,  where  he,  the  only  repre- 
sentative of  the  Most  High,  would  be  prepared  to  face 
them  without  fear,  and  confound  them  without  fail. 
Ahab,  thinking  he  should  now  obtain  the  mastery 
over  his  austere  reprover,  and  thereby  exalt  Baal  be- 
fore the  people,  agrees  to  the  proposal.  His  mandate 
circulates  through  Samaria.  The  appointed  morning 
dawns,  and  crowds  of  people  are  seen  hurrying  in  all 
directions  across  the  plain  of  Esdraelon  towards  the 
mountain.  Public  curiosity  is  excited,  and,  as  it 
happens  still,  when  the  controversy  is  upon  religion, 
multitudes,  who  care  nothing  about  the  merits  of  the 
question,  are  eager  to  witness  the  trial  of  strength 
between  the  parties.  I  think  I  see  the  descendants  of 
the  patriarchs,  the  children  of  the  men  who  aforetime 
saw  Sinai  on  fire,  now  stationed  at  the  foot  of  Carmel. 
I  look  in  vain  for  any  group  friendly  to  the  man  of 
God.  I  listen  to  their  colloquy  if  I  may  catch  one 
sentence  breathing  a  prayer  for  his  success  that  day. 
Alas  !  "  Fallen  art  thou,  O  Israel !"  No  man  speaks 
for  Elijah  ;  they  know  nothing  in  yon  motley  crowd, 
even  of  the  sordid  spirit  that  leads  our  modern  gamb- 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  213 

lers  to  stake  large  sums  on  "  the  hazard  of  the  die." 
The  defeat  of  the  Hebrew  and  the  triumph  of  Ahab 
are  taken  for  granted,  and  they  anticipate,  with  carnal 
joy,  the  consequent  debaucheries  with  which  the  vic- 
tory must  be  celebrated.  Ichabod  is,  indeed,  written 
upon  Israel :  "  The  glory  has  departed."  It  has  de- 
parted, but  it  is  soon  to  return. 

The  sun  is  now  far  up  in  the  east,  casting  his  golden 
rays  over  the  mountains  of  Judea,  and  promising  soon 
to  fall  above  the  waters  of  the  great  sea  from  which 
Carmel  seems  to  "  lift  his  awful  form."  The  mur- 
murings  of  impatience  are  heard,  and  fears  perhaps  are 
entertained  that  Elijah's  courage  may  fail.  But  hark  ! 
the  borders  of  that  vast  assembly  are  suddenly  agitated, 
and  every  eye  eagerly  seeks  out  the  cause.  It  is 
Elijah,  says  one.  No,  said  another,  it  is  Ahab  !  Then 
was  the  air  rent  with  their  most  loyal  plaudits,  and 
every  one,  as  they  gaze  upon  the  chivalrous  monarch, 
feels  more  and  more  assured  that  he  is  not  the  man  to 
venture  where  he  has  not  well  examined  his  ground. 
Victory  is  again  anticipated,  and  they  raise  up  another 
shout,  as  if  victory  were  already  his.  But  where  is 
Elijah  ?  Another  stir  at  the  outskirts  attracts  their 
notice.  Behold  that  Tishbite  now !  they  cry.  No, 
not  yet ;  these  are  the  prophets  of  Baal !  If  loyalty 
called  forth  a  shout  that  made  the  caves  of  Carmel 
ring  again,  superstition  now  lifted  up  its  impious  voice 
till  the  waters  of  the  Kishon  recoiled  in  their  channel, 
and  the  silence  of  Esdraelon  became  ten  thousand 
echoes.  Carmel  itself  heard  the  idolatrous  thunder, 
and  frowned  from  its  beautiful  summit  upon  the  god- 
less crowd  beneath.  These  priests  now  take  their 
place,  and  await  the  coming  of  Elijah.  Alas,  for  the 
good  old  seer  of  Judah  !  What  chance  has  he  against 
so  many  ?     Eight  hundred  and  fifty  priests,  the  king, 


214  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

and  all  the  people  of  the  kingdom,  to  one  man — one 
unbefriended,  hated  man  !  Fearful  odds  !  The  day- 
is  ours!  shouted  the  multitude.  Let  us  cast  Elijah, 
when  he  comes,  from  the  top  of  Carmel  to  the  depths 
of  the  sea ! 

But  where  is  Elijah  ?  Will  he  come  ?  They  fear 
not ;  he  has  turned  coward,  and  Baal  is  now,  beyond 
controversy,  God.  Hush  thy  voice,  O  vain  idolater ! 
hearest  thou  not  the  footsteps  of  the  prophet?  Look 
across  the  valley  of  Jezreel ;  seest  thou  a  man  with  a 
mantle  cast  around  his  shoulders  ?  he  comes  this  way  ; 
he  comes  with  solemn  step  and  slow ;  now  he  nears 
the  mount ;  the  people  separate,  making  a  way  for 
him  through  the  midst;  he  falters  not,  but  is  erect 
and  firm  as  truth  itself;  his  eye  is  eloquent  of  thought, 
and  upon  his  pale  face  solemnity  reposes.  No  wonder  : 
it  is  Israel  whom  he  sees  before  him,  not  assembled,  as 
of  old,  on  Jehovah's  side,  but  marshalled  to  hurl  him 
from  his  throne,  and  fill  it  with  an  idol.  No  wonder : 
on  the  issue  of  this  day's  experiment  depends  the  re- 
enthronement  of  God  in  Jeshurun,  and  he,  a  defence- 
less Hebrew  prophet,  is  responsible  for  that  issue. 
Without  uttering  a  word,  Elijah  ascends  the  moun- 
tain. The  king,  the  priests,  and  the  people  follow. 
He  reaches  a  favorable  spot  on  its  side  where  the  trial 
should  be  visible  from  all  directions,  and  then  he  waves 
his  hand  for  silence.  Every  sound  is  hushed,  and  a 
deathlike  stillness  reigns.  What  a  moment  of  thrilling 
suspense  !  He  speaks  ;  let  us  hear  him.  His  words 
are  as  bold  as  ever,  and  his  bearing  as  confident. 
"  How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions  ?  if  the  Lord 
be  God,  follow  him,  but  if  Baal  be  God,  then  follow 
him."  He  pauses  for  a  minute,  but  gets  no  reply. 
"  The  people  answered  him  not  a  word."  Either  they 
are  impatient  to  hear  more,  or  they  are  self-condemned 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  215 

for  that  contemptible  indecision  of  character  of  which 
EHjah  has  accused  them.  He  speaks  again.  How 
affecting  are  his  next  words !  "I,  even  I,  only  remain 
a  prophet  of  Jehovah,  but  Baal's  prophets  are  four 
hundred  and  fifty  men."  Notwithstanding  this  great 
disproportion,  however,  he  expresses  his  willingness  to 
proceed.  He  does  so,  and  proposes  that  Baal's  priests 
should  first  of  all  cut  a  bullock  to  pieces,  and  lay  it  on 
the  wood,  but  no  fire  under  it ;  that  he  should  do  the 
same  with  his  bullock ;  that  they  should  then  retire 
from  their  respective  altars,  and  wait  the  issue  ;  "  the 
God,"  he  said,  "  that  answereth  by  fire,  let  him  be 
God."  Nothing  could  be  more  reasonable  ;  and  with- 
out apparently  consulting  either  the  king  or  his  priests, 
the  people  answered  and  said,  "  It  is  well  spoken." 

Having  then  succeeded  thus  far  in  obtaining  their 
acquiescence,  Elijah  challenges  the  idolaters  to  begin. 
They  begin  ;  they  cut  their  bullock  to  pieces  ;  the 
pieces  are  laid  on  the  wood,  but  no  fire  is  permitted  to 
be  carried  near  them.  There  is  anxious  expectation 
for  a  period ;  they  look  to  the  top  of  Carmel ;  they 
gaze  towards  the  sea  ;  they  survey  Jezreel's  Vale,  but 
no  fire  appears.  What  cry  was  that  ?  "  O  Baal, 
hear  us !"  Ah  I  this  is  a  cry  of  threefold  iniquity ;  it 
is  a  cry  of  fear,  of  unbelief,  of  idolatry.  What  a  cry 
to  be  heard  from  an  assembly  of  Hebrews !  Who 
would  ever  have  predicted  such  a  scene  within  the 
territories  of  the  promised  land  ?  The  day,  however, 
is  advancing ;  and  as  time  is  valuable  when  the  cause 
of  truth  is  weighed  in  the  trembling  balances,  Elijah 
goes  up  to  the  priests.  What  a  spectacle  meets  his 
viev/ !  In  their  rage  at  their  own  god  for  not  sending 
fire,  they  had  leaped  upon  the  altar  and  broken  it 
dowTi.  The  prophet's  courage  by  this  time  is  greatly 
confirmed,  and  in  words  of  bitter  irony  he  thus  ad- 


216  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

dresses  them  :  "  Cry  aloud;  for  he  is  a  god:  either  he 
is  talking,  or  he  is  pursuing,  or  he  is  in  a  journey, 
or  peradventure  he  sleepeth,  and  must  be  awaked." 
Maddened  by  this  satirical  description  of  their  favorite 
idol,  they  begin  to  cut  themselves  v^^ith  knives  and 
lances,  till  the  blood  gushes  out. 

The  day  drags  on,  and  the  sun  is  already  gilding 
the  Mediterranean  with  his  setting  beams ;  but  no 
answer  is  given,  and  no  fire  descends.  They  have  had 
a  fair  trial,  from  the  morning  even  until  the  time  of 
the  offering  of  the  evening  sacrifice.  Surely  none  can 
object  to  Elijah's  being  now  permitted  to  make  the 
trial  of  his  God.  Haggard  and  bleeding,  the  infat- 
uated priests  retire  from  the  spot ;  calm,  dignified,  and 
assured,  the  servant  of  Jehovah  approaches  it.  He 
commands  the  people  to  come  nigh.  They  draw  near. 
In  their  presence  he  repairs  the  altar,  takes  twelve 
stones,  according  to  the  number  of  the  twelve  tribes 
of  Israel,  and  having  finished  the  necessary  prepara- 
tion, he  puts  the  wood  in  order,  cuts  his  bullock  into 
pieces,  and  lays  it  on  the  wood.  Being  all  ready  now 
to  bring  the  grand  experiment  to  a  close,  the  thought 
strikes  him,  they  may  attribute  it  to  trick  ;  so  he  com- 
mands them  to  fill  four  barrels  of  water,  and  to  pour 
them  on  the  sacrifice  and  on  the  wood.  They  obey 
him.  This  is  done  a  second  and  a  third  time,  till  the 
water  ran  round  about  the  altar,  and  the  trench  was 
filled  with  water.  Thus  deluged,  the  consumption  of 
the  flesh  by  fire  would  cause  a  deeper  impression. 

The  hour  of  the  evening  offering  has  now  come.  At 
that  hour  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  must  inflame  his 
own  sacrifice  by  his  own  fire,  as  of  old  in  the  wilder- 
ness. The  Tishbite  walks  up  to  the  altar,  folds  his 
mantle  more  closely  around  him,  and  raises  his  eyes, 
and  hands,  and  heart  to  heaven.     The  ghastly  features 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  217 

of  the  priests  are  lit  up  with  the  premature  hope  of  a 
failure  as  complete  as  their  own.  They  come  a  little 
nearer,  and  nearer  to  the  prophet,  bat  he  heeds  them 
not ;  his  soul  is  in  communion  with  God.  The  mul- 
titude, now  to  some  extent  cast  down  from  the  proud 
vaunting  with  which  they  had  heralded  the  dawn, 
watch  with  breathless  interest  the  procedure.  At  last 
silence  is  broken.  Every  ear  is  turned  to  the  altar  to 
hear  that  prophet's  prayer.  And  for  what  does  he 
pray  ?  Listen.  "Lord  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
of  Israel,  let  it  be  known  this  day  that  thou  art  God 
in  Israel,  and  that  I  am  thy  servant,  and  that  I  have 
done  all  these  things  at  thy  word.  Hear  me,  O  Lord, 
hear  me ;  that  this  people  may  know  that  thou  art 
the  Lord  God,  and  that  thou  hast  turned  their  heart 
back  again."  With  v»'hat  emotions  would  that  vast 
assembly  await  the  answer  to  tlie  simple  but  truly 
sublime  petition !  No  sooner  had  the  last  words  es- 
caped the  prophet's  lips,  than  down  came  the  fire  of 
God,  and  the  whole  sacrifice  was  instantly  burned  up, 
as  if  it  had  been  chaff  in  the  furnace. 

The  experiment  has  succeeded.  Jehovah's  solitary 
prophet  has  triumphed.  The  people  are  now  carried 
round  to  the  side  of  truth  ;  and,  falling  down  on  their 
faces,  they  cry  out,  "The  Lord,  he  is  the  God  ;  the 
Lord,  he  is  the  God."  The  order  being  given  by  Eli- 
jah, the  whole  of  Baal's  priests  are  seized,  dragged 
dow^n  the  mountain  to  the  brook  Kishon,  and  every 
one  of  them  put  to  death.  How  terribly  and  surely 
will  Jehovah  vindicate  his  own  honor  and  majesty ! 
The  besetting  sin  of  Israel  being  thus  instantly  laid 
aside,  the  judgment  which  it  had  imprecated  on  the 
land  is  as  quickly  removed.  Elijah  bids  Ahab  get  up 
and  eat  and  drink  ;  "  for,"  he  says,  "  there  is  a  sound 
of  abundance  of  rain." 

10 


218  MOUNT    CAR.MKI.. 

Such  were  the  august  and  important  scenes  that 
day  witnessed  on  Carmel ;  and  the  following  lessons, 
among  many  others,  are  thereby  taught  us. 


PART   III. 

THE  INSTRUCTIONS  FROM  CARMEL. 

SIN   AND    CURSE    OF    IDOLATRY HOW    ITS   PROGRESS    MAY    BE 

ARRESTED DIVINE    BLESSING  RESTS  ON  BELIEVING  PRAYERS 

AND  EFFORTS DUTY  OF  BEING  DECIDED  IN  RELIGION. 

I.  Idolatry  is  the  sin  and  curse  of  mankind. — 
An  enlightened  Christian  considers  idolatry  to  be 
largely  diffused  in  countries  called  religious,  and  to 
be  as  obnoxious  and  impious  a  thing  in  them  as  in 
heathen  lands.  He  believes  all  sin  to  be  idolatry,  and 
all  sinners,  by  whatsoever  name  they  may  be  other- 
wise called,  to  be  idolaters.  What  is  sin  but  the  alien- 
ation of  the  heart  from  God,  and  the  gift  of  that  heart 
to  some  darling  lust?  Before  God  it  does  not  matter 
whether  the  idol  worshipped  be  nominally  a  deity  or 
really  an  impure  desire.  Whatever  a  man  lusts  after, 
that  is  his  idol :  whatever  a  man  does,  in  order  to 
gratify  such  lusts,  that  is  his  idolatry.  The  worship 
of  the  true  God  consists  in  fearing  him,  and  keeping 
his  commandments;  such,  in  fact,  makes  up  the  whole 
duty  of  man.  If,  then,  God  is  not  feared,  and  his 
commandments  are  not  kept,  he  is  not  worshipped. 
According  to  this  view,  then,  sin  is  idolatry,  and  idol- 
atry is  the  sin  and  the  curse  of  mankind.  It  is  our 
priginal  estate.     Thus   are  we  born,  and  thus   do  we 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  219 

live,  till  grace  translates  us  from  Satan  to  God  ;  and 
if  we  refuse  or  resist  grace,  thus  it  is  that  we  die. 
The  descriptions  given  in  the  Bible  of  our  depraved 
nature  corroborate  this  account.  The  sinner  is  there 
declared  to  live  "without  God  in  the  world."  "  God 
is  not  in  all  his  thoughts."  He  is  a  "  lover  of  pleas- 
ure, more  than  a  lover  of  God."  "He  hath  said  in 
his  heart.  There  is  no  God."  The  person  who  thus 
excludes,  God,  who  gives  to  the  creature  the  heart  that 
is  demanded  by  the  Creator,  and  who  permits  the 
spirit  that  now  works  in  the  children  of  disobedience 
to  be  his  ruler,  must  be  an  idolater.  As,  then,  you 
find  idolatry  wherever  you  find  man,  so  everywhere  you 
find  the  curse  of  God.  "  Judgments,"  says  scripture, 
"  are  prepared  for  scorners  ;"  but  we  find  his  judg- 
ments as  fearfully  extensive  in  Christian  as  in  heathen 
lands.  The  scorners  then  must  be  everywhere,  at 
home  as  well  as  abroad,  in  the  churclies  of  Christian- 
ity, as  well  as  in  the  temples  of  heathenism.  This 
view  of  the  case  withdraws  our  attention  from  the  de- 
falcations of  God's  ancient  people,  to  the  considera- 
tion of  our  own.  Are  not  we  similarly  disposed? 
Our  business,  treasures,  children,  amusements,  may 
at  any  time  become  our  Baal.  In  the  haunts  of  im- 
piety, or  in  the  recesses  of  earthly  affection,  or  at  the 
marts  of  traffic,  we  may  be  said  to  build  our  altars  on 
his  high  places,  there  to  sacrifice  to  him  our  activities 
and  thoughts,  yea,  our  very  souls.  How  true  must 
this  be,  when  even  the  apostle  John  saw  it  necessary 
to  say  to  Christians,  "  Little  children,  keep  yourselves 
from  idols  !" 

It  is  lamentable  to  think  of  idolatry  of  this  kind 
abounding  among  Christian  professors.  We  are  as- 
tonished at  the  ancient  Hebrews  ;  we  are  disposed  to 
regard  them  as  ingrates,  and  to  pronounce  thern  fools  j 


220  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

but  we  should  be  careful  lest  in  so  doing  we  condemn 
and  stigmatize  ourselves.  We,  too,  are  a  peculiar  peo- 
ple. Every  mean  of  grace  is  at  our  right  hand.  God 
can  do  no  more  for  our  vineyard  than  he  has  done  ;  and 
yet,  on  taking  a  cursory  glance  at  the  state  of  society 
in  many  parts  of  Britain,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  say 
w^hether  Jehovah  or  Baal  was  God.  Do  we  well  to  be 
angry  because  Jehovah  is  frowning  ?  Ought  we  not 
rather  to  talvc  the  w^arnings  of  his  displeasure  w^hich 
abound  in  these  days  of  darkness,  and  forsake  our  idols  ? 
No  rain  for  more  than  three  years  fell  in  Samaria  be- 
cause of  Israel's  homage  to  Baal.  How  marked  and 
alarming  was  such  a  token  of  Jehovah's  jealousy  !  but 
it  was  long  unheeded,  and,  consequently,  famine  and 
its  liorrors  bestrode  the  land. 

Are  there  no  signs  of  God's  being  angry  with  our 
country  at  this  period  of  its  history  ?  Temporal  dis- 
asters have  never  been  so  extensive  in  their  range, 
nor  so  ruinous  in  their  effects.  The  food  that  sustains 
us  has  been  blighted ;  thousands  have  perished  from 
want  of  bread,  and  from  the  noisome  pestilence ;  while 
an  appalling  plague  sits  at  our  door,  ready  to  enter 
and  execute  its  commission.  Are  these  things  to  be 
considered  the  proofs  of  God's  complacency  in  us? 
Are  vv^e  to  sit  down  and  fold  our  hands,  and  conclude 
that  his  anger  is  turned  away  ?  God  forbid.  Jehovah 
is  offended.  He  has  looked  on  while  Baal  and  Ash- 
torcth  have  for  many  years  been  deified  in  our  land ; 
and  now  his  forbearance  seems  to  be  giving  way,  so 
that  his  divine  jealousy  may  vindicate  his  glory.  It 
is  certainly  the  duty  of  Christians  to  send  over  help 
to  the  perishing  in  Macedonia.  Christ's  kingdom 
must  be  extended,  though  many  at  home  will  not  be- 
lieve. But  we  ought  also  to  regard  with  deep  concern 
the  sins  of  our  own  land.     We  are  bound,  alike  by 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  221 

Christian  patriotism  and  piety,  to  pray  for  the  revival 
of  religion,  and  for  times  of  refreshing  from  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Lord  amongst  ourselves. 

Some  whisper  that  our  country  has  passed  the 
zenith  of  her  power,  and  that  her  sun  is  now  on  the 
decline.  If  it  be  so,  it  is  the  righteous  punishment 
of  our  unfaithfulness  and  ungodliness ;  but  perhaps  it 
is  not  so.  If,  then,  such  a  country  as  this  can  be 
saved  by  hope,  let  us  cherish  that  hope,  by  casting 
down  our  idols  and  returning  to  Jehovah.  In  that 
case,  if  Britain  repent  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  as  did 
Nineveh  of  old,  he  may  be  prevailed  on  to  withdraw 
these  clouds.  Our  land  may  have  before  her,  her 
brightest  days ;  and  they  who  now  prophesy  only  evil, 
may  live  to  see  abounding  Wessedness.  This  consum- 
mation, however,  depends  on  an  honest  and  practical 
abnegation  of  that  intense  worldly-mindedness  under 
which,  for  these  past  years,  her  people  seem  to  have 
been  speU-bound.  May  God  in  his  mercy  grant  that 
we  may  be  awakened  to  repentance,  and  set  upon 
reformation,  and  that  we  shall  all  ere  long  be  seen 
returning  to  him,  and  saying,  "  Asshur  shall  not  save 
us ;  we  will  not  ride  upon  horses ;  neither  wiU  we  say 
any  more  to  the  work  of  our  hands.  Ye  are  our  gods  : 
for  in  thee  the  fatherless  findeth  mercy  !" 

II.  The  friends  of  religion  should  exert  them- 
selves TO  stay  the  progress  of  sin,  and  avert 
DIVINE  JUDGMENTS.  —  Thc  discipIcs  of  Jcsus  Christ 
have  his  sacred  truth  deposited  in  their  hands ;  and 
he  has  made  them  responsible  for  its  maintenance 
and  diffusion.  For  whatever  they  are  made  respon- 
sible, they  are  made  capable  ;  and  if  they  refuse  to 
employ  their  capacities,  they  must  incur  his  dis- 
pleasure, and  be  subjected  to  chastisement.  Then- 
paucity  of  numbers  at  any  time,  and  their  seeming 


222  MOUNT    CARMEL 

weakness,  effect  no  change  in  their  obligations.  Whe- 
ther many  or  few,  weak  or  strong,  it  is  still  in  their 
power,  as  it  is  ever  their  duty,  to  do  what  is  enjoined 
in  the  way  of  promoting  their  divine  Master's  cause. 

Principles  such  as  these  have  need  to  be  studied  in 
times  of  defection  from  the  truth  ;  and  those  who  are 
witnesses  for  that  truth,  should  not  shun  to  declare 
them.  When  a  cause  is  popular,  and  on  the  ascend- 
ant, it  gains  around  it  crowds  of  patrons.  When  its 
reverses  come,  their  applause  is  hushed,  and  it  is 
abandoned.  But  when  this  cause  of  Christ  falls  upon 
dark  days,  and  when  its  friends  are  few,  then  is  the 
time  that  the  voice  of  its  advocates  should  be  lifted  up 
like  a  trumpet.  Danger  to  life  and  property  may  be 
thus  incurred,  but  incurred  it  must  be  ;  for  Christians 
are  enjoined  to  be  "  faithful  to  death,"  and  to  be  ever 
ready  to  "  forsake  all  and  follow  Christ."  The  world, 
it  may  be,  counts  these  very  unreasonable  terms; 
hence,  it  refuses  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
matter.  The  genuine  Christian,  however,  counts  all 
things  but  loss  to  win  salvation  for  himself,  and  make 
known  the  glad  tidings  to  others.  The  conditions 
thereof  are  gladly  accepted,  and  it  is  his  desire  honorably 
to  implement  them  all.  These  observations  are  illus- 
trated on  a  grand  scale  in  the  lives  of  the  apostles,  and 
many  of  the  primitive  Christians.  At  the  dawn  of  the 
Reformation  they  were  luminously  embodied  in  Wyk- 
liffe,  Luther,  Zuinglius,  and  Knox,  who  stood  against 
the  world  for  the  truth's  sake.  All  missionaries,  in- 
deed, in  heathen  lands,  and  every  conscientious  and 
consistent  Lot  in  the  midst  of  a  crooked  generation, 
act  out  these  principles  in  their  advocacy  of  the  gospel 
of  Christ. 

And  what  else  did  the  Tishbite  ?  What  a  glorious 
exemplification  of  such  principles  have  we  in  the  scene 


MOUNT    CAtfMEL.  223 

described  between  him  and  Ahab !  The  cause  of 
truth  was  in  the  dust,  and  Baal  was  on  his  high 
place.  Jealous  for  the  honor  of  Jehovah  ;  and  grieved 
at  the  heart  for  his  countrymen,  Elijah,  though  alone 
and  unpatronized,  withstood  the  royal  patron  of  idola- 
try to  the  face  !  He  spake  for  Jehovah  ;  not  in  a  cor- 
ner, but  in  a  crowd ;  not  in  a  whisper,  but  with  a 
loud  and  significant  voice ;  not  in  bland  and  studied 
phraseology,  such  as  suit  the  manners  of  a  court,  but 
in  stern  and  truthful  denunciations,  such  as  became 
the  man  of  God ;  not  with  a  multitude  at  his  back, 
ready  to  carry  him  through  his  enterprize,  but  with  a 
nation  before  him  gnashing  their  teeth,  and  imprecat- 
ing curses  on  his  head!  What  cares  Elijah?  His 
life  is  not  his  own.  If  God  chooses  to  take  it,  good 
and  well ;  if  not,  then  let  it  be  consecrated  to  his  side. 
What  was  the  result  ?  Truth  triumphed ;  judgments 
were  averted.  Thus,  having  had  it  put  within  his 
power  to  arrest  sin,  and  win  a  battle  for  his  God,  he 
used  his  means  and  did  what  he  could.  No  more  was 
asked  of  him  ;  no  more  is  expected  of  any  of  us ;  and 
he  did  wondrously.  A  more  momentous  battle  was 
fought  on  Carmel  than  on  Marathon  or  Waterloo ; 
greater  interests  were  at  stake,  and  a  far  more  splen- 
did triumph  was  achieved.  But  what  a  contrast 
otherwise  !  On  Carmel  were  thousands  against  one 
man  ;  he  was  a  poor  prophet  of  the  Lord  ;  but  he  had 
faith,  and  he  could  pray,  and  he  won  the  victory. 

This  teaches  us  what  even  one  man  can  do  in  aid 
of  the  gospel,  and  on  the  side  of  philanthropy.  He  is 
a  coward  who  will  not  stand  to  his  side  because  num- 
bers are  against  him.  It  does  not  follow  that  a  ma- 
jority is  in  the  right ;  upon  the  subject  of  religion  it 
often  is  not  so.  Read  the  great  chapters  of  church 
history,  and  you  will  find  that  truth  has  generally 


224  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

made  her  way  to  the  throne  agai-nst  the  hootings  of 
insensate  rabbles,  often  led  on  by  men  whose  craft 
was  endangered  by  her  progress.  As  it  has  been,  so 
it  is  likely  to  be.  Christians,  you  have  it  in  your 
power  to  stop  the  progress  of  sin.  Having  possession 
of  God's  truth,  you  are  bound  to  circulate  it.  You 
have  many  opportunities  of  doing  this,  and  of  thereby 
rebuking  sin,  in  the  support  you  may  give  to  projects 
for  the  suppression  of  vice,  and  the  revival  of  religion, 
its  defence  at  home,  and  its  promulgation  abroad. 
Near  to  you  lie  the  materials  for  besieging  the  strong- 
holds of  Satan,  and  you  have  but  to  challenge  the 
scorner,  and  you  will  conquer.  You  must  conquer. 
What  can  stand  long  against  the  Bible,  when  projected 
by  skilful  and  vigorous  faith  against  the  feeble  de- 
fences of  error  ?  What  unsupported  buttress  of  the 
father  of  lies  can  long  resist  the  force  of  a  righteous 
man's  prayers  ?  What  amount  of  exalted  and  exult- 
ing evil  can  long  remain  before  the  dauntless  use  of 
spiritual  weapons  by  God's  men  of  war  ?  Soon,  at 
home,  and  soon  in  distant  lands,  the  p-teans  of  Chris- 
tian victory  over  heathenism,  would  make  the  arches 
above  us  resound,  if  every  disciple  of  Christ  were  as 
the  prophet  Elijah.  After  what  we  have  seen  him 
effect,  let  no  man  despise  the  worth  of  mere  individual 
effort  in  the  cause  of  the  gospel. 

But  there  is  more.  By  thus  laboring  for  the  ascen- 
dency of  truth,  the  friends  of  religion  may  become  the 
true  benefactors  of  their  race ;  they  may  avert  the 
divine  judgments.  When  Elijah  persuaded  Israel  to 
abandon  Baal,  the  bottles  ef  heaven  were  opened,  and 
the  earth  rejoiced  in  the  refreshing  rain.  We  recently 
were  visited  with  drought  and  dearth,  consequently, 
with  famine,  and  disease,  and  dcatli.  These  were 
our  national  judgments,  and  all  traceable  to  our  na- 


MOITNT    CARMEL.  225 

tional  sins.  The  men  among  us,  our  Elijahs,  who 
could  discern  the  signs  of  the  times,  betook  themselves 
to  more  activity  in  God's  cause  ;  they  convened  the 
multitudes  to  the  scene  of  confession  and  prayer,  and 
the  ear  of  God  was  filled  with  our  cries.  We  had 
power  with  him,  and  prevailed.  He  sent  us  deliver- 
ance. Oh  I  it  was  not  counsel  from  before  the  throne, 
nor  wisdom  from  the  senate,  nor  grimace  beside  the 
altar  that  did  it.  Jehovah  did  it :  and  he  did  it  in 
answer  to  the  prayers  of  the  saints,  and  because  of  the 
contrition  of  the  godly  ;  these  prayers  and  that  contri- 
tion, having  been  oflered  for  acceptance  on  the  grounds 
of  the  all-sufficient  atonement  of  Christ.  Ay,  and  so 
it  was,  sneer  as  infidelity  may;  fanaticism,  though 
the  free-thinker  call  it ;  religion  run  mad,  though  some 
professors  affect  to  think  it. 

We  can  do  it  again.  Judgments  are  thickening 
around  us  ;  God  is  angry.  The  latter  end  may  be 
worse  than  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  Let  us  blow  the 
trumpet  in  Zion,  and  call  on  all  men  everywhere  to 
repent.  If  we  succeed  in  persuading  our  fellow-men 
to  learn  righteousness  from  these  judgments,  we  are 
true  philanthropists.  The  heavens  are  no  longer  as 
brass,  nor  the  earth  as  iron.  Prosperity  returns  to  our 
merchandize,  to  be  henceforth  more  justly  consecrated 
to  God ;  threatening  pestilences  are  driven  from  our 
shores ;  hostile  nations  are  terror-stricken  before  our 
majestic  uprising,  God  putting  the  fear  of  Britain  upon 
all  countries ;  iniquity,  as  ashamed,  hides  her  hideous 
face ;  and  death,  on  his  pale  horse,  gallops  back  again 
to  his  own  dismal  place. 

We  can  do  it.  Well,  then,  shall  w^e  do  it  ?  Who 
can  answer  nay  ?  Only  let  the  Bible  be  more  than 
ever  the  man  of  our  counsel ;  prayer,  secret  and  dom- 
estic, more  than  ever  our  choice  resort ;  the  precious 

10^ 


226  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

Sabbaths  more  than  ever  strictly  hallowed,  and  their 
hours  of  rest  more  seriously  guarded  against  secular 
invasions  ;  only  let  the  public  ordinances  of  Christian- 
ity be  more  numerously  attended,  less  for  show,  and 
more  for  spiritual  good ;  only  let  our  substance,  as  God 
has  prospered  us,  be  more  liberally  cast  into  God's 
treasury,  for  the  conversion  of  the  world ;  only  let  all 
ministers  of  religion  be  more  in  earnest  in  their  min- 
istry, and  all  the  people  more  candid,  humble,  and 
prayerful  in  hearing ;  only  let  the  churches  of  every 
denomination  forget  their  minor  differences  in  intense 
concern  for  the  major  cause  of  Christ  and  his  truth ; 
and  I  believe  the  dark  clouds  that  lower  above  our 
land,  and  the  darker  ones  that  loom  in  the  distance, 
would  speedily  disappear,  and  the  gladsome  days  of 
peace,  piety,  and  plenty  would  dawn  upon  a  penitent 
and  a  pardoned  people. 

But,  alas  !  these  are  not  legislative  measures  ;  they 
do  not  smack  of  political  ingenuity ;  they  come  not 
with  the  air  and  authority  of  worldly  wisdom ;  besides, 
they  are  old-fashioned  appliances ;  their  employment 
is  too  easy,  and  their  auxiliaries  are  too  vulgar.  What 
has  royalty,  or  what  aristocracy,  to  do  with  repentings 
and  prayers  as  remedies  for  commercial  panics  and 
national  disasters?  and  what  have  the  men  of  this 
world  to  do  with  the  severities  of  godly  contrition  and 
the  aspirations  of  heavenly  faith  ?  Well,  so  they 
reason,  and  hence  they  refuse  to  try  the  weapons  of 
our  warfare.  Let  us  beware,  and  not  be  cooUed  by 
their  indifference,  or  intimidated  by  their  ridicule.  It 
is  our  duty  to  repress  sin,  defend  truth,  and  implore 
the  blessing  from  above ;  and  it  may  be  that,  though 
unacknowledged  at  present,  the  destinies  of  our  coun- 
try may  be  seen  hereafter,  on  history's  honest  page, 
coming  forth,  in  all  their  grandeur  and  importance, 


MOUNT    CARMEL*  227 

from  the  unostentatious  piety  of  an  age  that  haughtily 
asked  our  Elijah,  "  Art  thou  he  that  troubleth  Israel  ?" 
or,  that  in  derision  cried  after  him  on  whom  that  pro- 
phet's mantle  fell,  '^  Go  up,  thou  bald-head  ;  go  up, 
thou  bald-head." 

III.  God  avill  aid  efforts  and   answer  prayers 

FOR     THE     PROGRESS     AND     TRIUMPH    OF     TRUTH. JcSUS 

Christ  is  the  author  and  finisher  of  human  redemption 
— a  work  to  which  every  other  in  the  universe  of  God 
is  inferior.  To  Him,  therefore,  who  glorified  God  in 
rearing  and  perfecting  it,  all  in  heaven  and  on  earth 
are  to  be  eternally  subjected.  Creation  is  given  to 
him,  to  use  it  as  he  lists  for  building  up  Zion.  Provi- 
dence is  given  to  him,  to  carry  forward  by  its  means 
the  resolutions  of  the  council  of  peace ;  and  it  is  as 
our  Mediator  that  he  handles  the  reins  of  government 
in  both  of  these  dominions,  so  as  to  make  every  crea- 
ture and  event  conspire  to  advance  the  kingdom  of 
grace.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  his  glory  is  insep- 
arably associated  with  the  one  cause  of  gospel  truth  in 
our  sinful  world.  That  glory  is  not  promoted  by  his 
omnipotent  fiat,  which  may  every  moment  be  bringing 
new  worlds  into  existence,  nor  by  the  subjugation  of 
every  created  intelligence  to  his  divine  pleasure,  nor 
in  the  contributions  of  universal  providences  to  the 
praise  of  his  uncollegiated  sovereignty ;  no  ;  that  glory 
of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Mediator  King,  is  promoted  by  the 
homage  of  creation  and  providence  to  redemption,  by 
the  designs  of  God  in  the  latter  being  progressively 
wrought  out  in  the  dispensations  and  works  of  the 
former. 

The  legitimate  inference  from  such  a  truth  is,  that 
the  Head  of  the  church  must  take  an  absorbing  interest 
in  that  by  which  his  mediatorial  glory  is  to  be  pro- 
moted ;  which  means,  that  he  will  notice  and  bless 


228  MOUNT    CARAIEL. 

every  effort  made,  and  answer  every  prayer  presented,- 
for  the  prosperity  of  Zion.     In  his  holy  purposes  to 
build  up  mercy,  he,  as  it  were,  disregards  the  multi- 
plication of  those  gorgeous  temples  of  creation  which 
display  only  his  wisdom,  benevolence,  and  power ;  and 
in  his  affectionate  care  to  bring  into  his  own  presence 
the  children  who  are  to  be  "  the  travail  of  his  soul,"  he 
seems  to  overlook  the  crowds  of  angels,  and  of  other 
innocent  beings  who  need  not  this  mercy,  and  there- 
fore only  celebrate  the  praises  of  his  bounty.     What 
motive  is  this  to  effort  and  prayer  amongst  Christians  ! 
The  hand  that  moves  creation  is  outstretched  for  the 
cause  of  gospel  holiness  on  the  earth ;  the  eye  that 
comprehends  in  a  glance  the  vast  regions  of  infinitude, 
is  fixed  constantly  on  the  apparently  little  Jiingdom  of 
grace,   silently  but   surely   working  its   way  in   our 
world ;  and  that  heart  which   gives  pulsation  to   all 
conscious  existence,  beats  largely  and  strongly  for  the 
revival  and  mastery  of  the  truth,  as  it  circulates  from 
him  throughout  the  membership  of  his  mystical  body. 
Why  is  it,  then,  that  Christians,  who  have  this 
truth  in  their  custody,  and  who  were  made  Christians 
that  they  might  go  and  preach  it  to  all  the  world ; 
why  is  it  that  they  are  so  backward  to  carry  the  war 
of  the  gospel  into  the  territories  of  Satan  ?  and  why  so 
timid  about  their  success  for  recovering  the  world? 
Truth   in  itself  is  great,  and  must  prevail ;  but  the 
God  of  truth  is  greater  than  the  truth,  and  he  is  on 
our  side.     It  is  truth  we  are  maintaining ;  we  may 
therefore  be  confident  in  the  intrinsic  excellence  of  our 
cause.     Our  leader  into  all  truth   is  "  the  Spirit  of 
truth  ;"  and  therefore  we  may  without  fainting  pursue. 
Our  shield  is  the  blessing  of  the  God  of  truth ;  and 
therefore  we  cannot  possibly  be  wounded  in  pressing 


MOUNT    CAR. MEL.  229 

forward  to  the  mark  to  which  He  from  on  high  is 
calling  us. 

These  considerations  impart  valae  and  dignity  to 
the  humble  means  of  the  gospel  enterprise.  The 
Bible  may  be  disrespected  as  the  composition  of  ami- 
able but  weak  enthusiasts ;  notwithstanding,  its  cir- 
culation will  put  to  flight  the  false  religions.  The 
preaching  of  the  gospel,  which  is  foolishness  in  the 
view  of  many,  will,  ere  long,  pull  down  the  strong- 
holds of  Satan.  The  Christian  pastor,  prosecuting 
meekly,  but  earnestly,  his  sublime  vocation,  may  pass 
unheeded  through  life's  bustling  colonnades,  and  die 
unlamented  by  the  minions  of  Mammon  ;  still,  he  has 
sown  that  seed  which,  in  other  days,  v/ill  bring  forth 
the  bread  of  life  to  famishing  thousands ;  and  he  has 
excavated  that  field  of  spiritual  wealth,  from  whose 
mines  shall  be  lifted  the  "pearl  of  great  price,"  by 
which  "  the  great  globe  itself"  is  to  be  enriched  and 
beautified.  The  missionary  enterprise  may  be  toler- 
ated as  a  project  of  innocent  benevolence,  or  de- 
nounced as  a  piece  of  splendid  hallucination;  before 
its  marches,  however,  and  counter-marches,  its  sieges 
and  battles,  philosophy  shall  retire  into  the  shade,  con- 
fessing its  incapacity  to  elevate  the  moral  condition  of 
man,  while  every  shrine  of  idolatry,  and  every  dogma 
of  superstition  w411  disappear,  leaving  the  ground  to  be 
occupied  by  the  temples  of  Christianity,  and  the  peo- 
ple to  be  instructed  by  the  oracles  of  God.  Prayer  to 
(jod,  personal  or  social,  as  a  mean  to  give  efficacy  to 
those  weak  things  of  the  world  which  God  hath  chosen 
to  confound  the  things  which  are  mighty,  may  be 
hooted  as  impotent  and  drivelling;  notwithstanding, 
the  effectual  fervent  prayers  of  the  righteous  will  avail 
to  evangelize  mankind.  At  the  prayer  meeting  on 
Carmel  there  was  only  one  man,  and  he  uttered  only 


230  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

one  short  prayer.  But  how  magnificent  the  result ! 
Fire  from  heaven  descended  ;  Baal  fell ;  Jehovah  was 
exalted ;  Israel  once  more  embraced  truth,  and  im- 
bibed life. 

It  is  a  trite  saying  that  *'  money  is  the  sinews  of 
war."  It  may  be  so ;  but  it  is  not  the  sinews  of  the 
gospel  enterprise :  prayers  are  these  sinews.  Money 
is  needed  ;  it  must  be  had  ;  but  prayers  are  still  more 
indispensable.  Money  contributed  on  the  most  muni- 
ficent scale,  cannot  bring  faith  to,  nor  institute  prayer 
in  the  church,  and  without  both,  the  world  never  rises 
out  of  its  darkness.  But  prayer  can  bring  more  faith 
to  Christians,  and  when  their  faith  is  increased,  so 
must  their  liberality.  The  Tishbite's  prayer,  without 
any  of  Israel's  money,  brought  Israel  back  to  God ; 
but  all  the  wealth  of  Ahab  and  Jezebel  could  not 
have  withdrawn  God's  people  from  Baal,  without  the 
prayer  of  Elijah.  Christians,  study  Elijah's  attitudes 
on  Carmel,  when  he  prayed  for  fire  and  for  rain.  Can 
you  conceive  of  any  position  more  useful,  more  sub- 
lime ?  Be  advised  to  occupy  a  similar  one  for  your- 
selves. We  do  not  bid  you  make  any  pilgrimage  to 
Carmel.  Remain  where  you  are ;  but  pray,  like 
Elijah,  where  you  are ;  and  pray  earnestly  for  the 
cause  of  godliness  in  this  wicked  generation. 

IV.  Every  man  is  bound  to  be  decided  in  the 
MATTER  OF  RELIGIOUS  TRUTH. — All  othcr  qucstions  may 
remain  uninvestigated  and  unsolved,  and  the  soul 
may  be  safe ;  but  if  the  question  of  the  truth  of  revela- 
tion be  yet  either  a  matter  of  unbelief,  or  of  specula-^ 
tive  investigation,  then  the  soul  is  in  imminent  dan- 
ger. There  is  more  peril,  perhaps,  in  the  halt  between 
the  two  opinions  than  in  any  other  state  of  the  mind, 
upon  the  subject  of  religion.  Hence  the  prophet  called 
the  attention  of  Israel  to  the  sin  of  their  indecision. 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  231 

It  would  seem  that  while  they  consented  to  worship 
Baal,  there  was  among  them  some  hankering  also 
after  the  good  old  way  of  worshipping  the  Jehovah  of 
their  fathers.  Elijah  represents  this  as  a  most  con- 
temptible state  of  mind,  and  urges  them  to  come  to  a 
decision  at  once,  and  either  be  idolaters  out  and  out, 
or  else  true  and  consistent  followers  of  Jehovah. 

And  so  would  we  now,  in  conclusion,  urge  it  upon 
you  who,  though  nominally  Christian,  have  not  after 
all  made  up  your  minds  upon  the  subject  of  vital 
truth.  You  are  at  present  attempting  an  impossible 
thing — the  worship  of  Jehovah  and  Baal  at  the  same 
time.  Now,  remember  what  Christ  said,  '•'  Ye  cannot 
serve  God  and  Mammon."  If  you  are  using  this 
world  as  abusing  it ;  that  is,  if  the  great  body  of  your 
thoughts  and  activities  are  about  this  world ;  then  ye 
are  serving  Mammon.  You  go  about,  now  wearing 
his  gaudy  livery,  and  now  dragging  his  chains ;  now 
coaxed  by  his  promises,  false  and  vain,  and  now  half 
choked  with  his  dust  and  dirt.  Only  continue  a  little 
longer  in  his  service,  and  you  will  soon  reap  in  full  the 
wages  he  has  not  promised,  disappointment  here,  and 
misery  hereafter.  Your  profession,  we  admit,  is  relig- 
ious. You  say  you  have  made  up  your  mind,  and 
you  do  follow  Christ.  But  you  say  what  is  not  true ; 
by  your  every  day  conduct  you  are  condemned.  That 
weary  worldly  life  you  lead,  is  certainly  not  the  life  of 
faith  in  God ;  and  these  pretty  outward  performances 
before  his  altars,  have  just  about  as  little  to  do  with 
true  piety,  as  the  tenant  of  the  garnished  sepulchre 
has  to  do  with  the  consciousness,  beauty,  and  joys  of 
young  life.  Ah !  thoughtless  men,  think,  say  what 
you  please,  but  this  awful  truth  stands  against  you, 
that  you  are  yet  far  from  God.  If  you  say.  We  have 
taken  up  our  abode  in  Christ,  he  replies,  "  I  knoW  thy 


232  MOUNT    CARMEL. 

works,  and  where  thou  dwellest ;  even  where  Satan's 
seat  is."  If  you  say,  We  beUeve  "  the  Lord  is  God," 
he  will  answer,  "I  know  you,  that  you  have  not  the 
love  of  God  in  you."  If  you  say,  ''  Other  gods  have 
had  dominion  over  us,  but  we  now  call  upon  thy 
name,"  he  will  reply,  "Jesus  I  know,  and  Paul  I 
know ;  but  who  are  ye  ?" 

It  is  surely  more  than  time  that  ye  were  bringing 
this  weighty  question  to  an  issue.  You  have  tampered 
too  long  already  with  eternal  truth ;  you  have  sported 
too  long  on  the  confines  of  light,  without  abandoning 
the  region  of  darkness ;  you  have  provoked  the  Saviour 
well  nigh,  it  may  be,  to  depart  altogether  from  your 
coasts,  by  holding  communion  with  Belial,  at  th~e 
same  time  that  you  tell  him  that  your  fellowship  is 
through  him  with  the  father.  Oh,  beware !  It  is  not 
safe  for  the  hypocrite  and  worldling  to  join  themselves 
to  the  assemblies  of  the  sons  of  God,  with  all  their 
sins  and  indecisions  strong  upon  and  within  them. 
Remember  the  same  fire  that  comes  down  to  consume 
the  sacrifice  of  the  unbeliever  may  fall  in  terrible 
judgment  upon  the  mocker.  The  blood  of  a  prophet  of 
Baal  has,  ere  this,  been  mingled  with  the  sacrifice  of  a 
man  of  God — appalling  termination  to  a  life  avowedly 
consecrated  to  the  service  of  truth,  but  in  reality  sac- 
rificed to  the  belief  of  a  lie  ! 

Many,  alas  !  too  many,  professed  Christians  do  not 
at  all  appreciate  what  is  said  to  them  about  the  ad- 
vantages and  felicities  of  a  decidedly  religious  state 
The  reason  is,  they  will  not  let  go  their  hold  of  the 
world ;  they  refuse  to  step  across  the  boundary  that 
separates  the  dominion  of  God  from  that  of  Satan ; 
they  consequently  never  taste  one  particle  of  the  gos- 
pel's fat  things,  and  how  then  can  they  know  that 
God  is  good  ?     It  is  painful  io  contemplate  the  condi- 


MOUNT    CARMEL.  233 

tion  of  some  good  moral  men  ;  they  are  almost  per- 
suaded to  be  Christians  ;  they  hover  on  the  brink  of 
vital  truth  ;  now  they  decide  to  take  the  blessed  spring 
forward  into  its  outstretched  arms  ;  but  now  the  love 
of  the  world  exerts  its  power,  and  they  fall  back  again 
upon  its  treacherous  bosom.  Sometimes  they  are  so 
nearly  resolved  to  make  the  trial,  that  you  would  al- 
most pronounce  upon  their  doing  so ;  but,  in  a  twink- 
ling, a  return  to  Mammon  quenches  the  desire,  and  all 
again  is  cold  and  dead  within  their  hearts.  Thus  they 
live,  often  accusing  religion,  perhaps,  as  really  deceit- 
ful in  its  promises,  and  never  conducting  them  to  that 
satisfactory  state  of  mind  which  it  professes  to  give 
and  maintain ;  and  thus  they  die.  They  die  !  Where  ? 
In  the  halt  between  two  opinions.  They  were  not  al- 
together the  world's,  and  now  by  the  world  they  are 
abandoned ;  they  were  never  God's,  and  now  his  gra- 
cious face  they  shall  never  see  ;  victims  of  mere  hesi- 
tation, dupes  of  a  vacillating  policy,  terrorists  as  re- 
gards hell,  compromisers  as  regards  heaven, — they  fall 
and  are  forever  lost ! 


MOUNT    TABOR, 


THE    TRANSFIGURATION  OF   CHRIST. 


In  entering  upon  the  consideration  of  the  subhine 
scene  of  the  Transfiguration  of  our  blessed  Lord,  we 
pass  from  Old  Testament  shadows  to  New  Testament 
reahties;  from  the  Shekina  as  a  type,  to  ''the  only- 
begotten  of  the  Father,"  who  is  "the  brightness  of  his 
glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person." 

The  "  Desire  of  all  nations  had  come."  The  vir- 
gin's child  was  born.  For  more  than  thirty  years  he 
had  tabernacled  among  men.  He  had  called  around 
him  his  chosen  witnesses.  They  had  often  beheld  his 
glory  in  miracle  and  doctrine  ;  but  the  time  of  his  de- 
parture was  at  hand,  and  he  must  confirm  the  faith  of 
the  apostles ;  he  must  attach  them  immovably  to  him- 
self and  his  gospel ;  he  must  indelibly  impress  it  upon 
their  minds,  that  he  was  indeed  and  in  truth  the  Holy 
One  of  God,  concerning  whom  Moses,  in  the  law,  and 
the  prophets,  did  write.  This  he  did  in  a  most  strik- 
ing and  memorable  form.  To  add  the  testimony  of 
Moses  and  the  prophets  to  his  own,  he  summoned  to 
Tabor  the  two  illustrious  heads  of  the  legal  and  pro- 
phetical dispensations,  and  received  from  them  their 
several  credentials.  These  were  laid  down  at  his  feet, 
and  his  sole  headship,  his  mediatorial  suflicicncy  and 


MOUNT    TABOR.  235 

supremacy,  were  by  them  acknowledged.  Although, 
then,  we  now  stand  on  the  eve  of  the  gospel  dispensa- 
tion, our  conversation  must  for  a  little  longer  be  with 
two  of  the  greatest  men  of  the  expiring  economy  ; 
and  though  it  be  in  a  new  form  that  we  look  upon  him, 
our  adorations  are  still  to  be  rendered  to  the  same  di- 
vine Being  who  appeared  in  the  bush  at  Horeb,  and  in 
the  fires  of  Sinai  and  Carmel.  That  meek  and  lowly- 
looking  man,  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  is  none  else  than  the 
*'  Jehovah"  of  the  Old  Testament  economy;  he  is  the 
^'  Lord  God  of  Abraham ;"  he  is  the  "  Angel  of  the 
Covenant."  All  along  it  has  been  his  wont  to  make 
use  of  the  everlasting  hills  for  discoveries  of  his  ma- 
jesty ;  and  when,  in  human  form,  he  sojourns  with 
men  on  the  earth,  we  see  him  frequently  ascending 
them,  at  one  time  making  them  his  pulpit  for  preach- 
ing, at  another  his  closet  for  prayer,  and  at  a  third,  as 
in  the  scene  before  us,  his  Shekina  for  unveiling  his 
glory.  Let  us  go,  then,  even  unto  Tabor,  to  behold 
that  glory,  and  worship  him  accordingly. 


PART  I. 

THE    SCENES    ON    TABOR. 

THE     MOUNTAIN BATTLE    OF     MOUNT     TABOR NAPOLEON    BO- 
NAPARTE  CHRIST    AND    THREE    DISCIPLES    ASCEND    IT THE 

TRANSFIGURATION ITS    MYSTICAL    SIGNIFICATIONS. 

Tabor,  upon  the  summit  of  which  the  scene  to  be 
described  is  understood  to  have  occurred,  is  situated 
on  the  northeastern  side  of  the  great  plain  of  Es- 


236  MOUNT    TABOR. 


draelon,  in  Palestine,  about  two  leagues  southeast  of 
Nazareth.  It  is  considered  to  be  the  highest  mountain 
in  Lower  Galilee,  and  rises  about  a  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Though  surrounded  by  other 
mountains  on  all  sides,  yet  it  is  the  only  one  that 
stands  entirely  by  itself  It  appears  that  on  its  sum- 
mit are  considerable  ruins,  the  masonry  of  which  is 
traced  to  the  time  of  the  Romans.  Some  thmk  that 
these  ruins  must  be  the  remains  of  the  thick  wall  built 
round  the  mountain  by  Josephus,  in  the  Jewish  war. 
The  view  from  the  top  is  by  every  traveller  described 
as  of  extraordinary  beauty  and  great  extent.  "The 
path,"  says  one,  "  wound  around  the  mountain,  and 
gave  us  a  view  from  all  its  difierent  sides,  every  step 
presenting  something  new,  and  more  and  more  beauti- 
ful, until  all  was  completely  forgotten,  and  lost  in  the 
exceeding  loveliness  of  the  view.  Stripped  of  every 
association,  and  considered  merely  as  an  elevation 
commanding  a  view  of  unknown  valleys  and  moun- 
tains, I  never  saw  a  mountain  which,  for  beauty  of 
scene,  better  repaid  the  toil  of  ascending  it."  Each 
feature  in  this  magnificent  prospect  is  said  to  be 
exceedingly  grand ;  the  eye  and  the  mind  are  alike 
delighted  ;  and  by  a  combination  of  objects  and  asso- 
ciations unusual  to  fallen  man,  earthly  scenes  which 
more  than  satisfy  the  external  sense,  elevate  the  soul 
to  heavenly  contemplations. 

The  upper  plain  of  Tabor  has  at  different  times 
been  under  cultivation ;  but  when  from  oppression  or 
fear  abandoned  by  the  cultivator,  it  becomes  a  tabic  of 
rich  grass  and  wild  flowers,  which  send  forth  a  most 
refreshing  and  luxurious  odor.  In  summer,  the  dews 
fall  copiously  on  the  mountain,  and  a  strong  wind 
blows  over  it  all  day.  Thick  clouds  rest  upon  its  head 
every  morning,  and  do  not  disappear  till  noon.     The 


MOUNT    TABOR.  237 

moTintain  consists  of  limestone,  and,  as  viewed  from 
the  southwest,  presents  the  form  of  a  segment  of  a 
sphere ;  from  the  northwest  it  resembles  a  truncated 
cone.  Its  sides  are  mostly  covered  with  bushes,  and 
woods  of  oak  trees,  with  a  few  pistachios  of  a  beautiful 
aspect,  and  affording  a  fine  shade.  The  crest  of  Tabor 
is  table-land,  of  600  or  700  yards  in  height  from  north 
to  south,  and  of  about  half  as  much  across,  and  a  flat 
field  of  about  an  acre  occurs  at  a  level  of  some  20  or 
25  feet  lower  than  the  eastern  brow. 

There  is  one  circumstance  appertaining  to  the 
modern  history  of  this  sacred  mountain  to  which  we 
may  refer  in  passmg,  as  forming  a  striking  contrast  to 
the  solemn  scene  of  which  it  was  the  witness  nearly 
two  thousand  years  ago.  The  historian  informs  us 
that  the  battle  of  Mount  Tabor  was  fought  in  this 
locality,  nearly  fifty  years  since,  between  the  French 
and  the  Turks.  It  was  a  sanguinary  engagement, 
ha\dng  commenced  in  the  morning,  when  the  French 
genera]  Kleber  marched  his  3000  soldiers  into  the  plain, 
to  encounter  the  Turkish  army  of  15,000  infantry  and 
12,000  splendid  cavalry.  While  the  battle  raged,  we 
are  told  that  a  figure  was  seen  standing  on  the  top  of 
Tabor,  keenly  surveying  the  conflict  on  the  plain  be- 
neath. This  was  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  a  name  in 
many  respects  execrable,  and  at  which  the  world  has 
often  turned  pale.  It  seems  he  made  choice  of  this 
elevation  to  watch  his  opportunity  for  a  final  and  fatal 
charge.  When,  then,  the  wearied  Kleber  was  w^ell 
nigh  despairing,  this  extraordinary  man  descended  from 
the  mountain,  with  only  a  single  division  of  a  small 
army,  and  with  only  one  piece  of  cannon,  and  rushing 
to  the  rescue,  completely  put  the  Turks  to  flight ; 
they  were  driven  back  towards  the  Jordan,  where 
Murat  was  waiting  to  receive  them  and  to  hew  them 


238  MOUNT    TABOR. 

to  pieces.  It  is  said  that  Murat  declares  that  the 
recollection  of  the  transfiguration  of  the  Redeemer  on 
the  top  of  Tabor  came  upon  him  in  the  hottest  of 
the  engagement,  and  that  it  nerved  him  with  additional 
courage.  What  an  extraordinary  perversion  of  a 
scriptural  reminiscence ! 

The  emperor,  his  generals,  and  their  victories,  are 
passing  away  into  forgetfulness,  and  their  memories 
will  finally  rot ;  but  the  scriptural  associations  of  that 
mountain,  and  the  plain  from  which  it  rises,  will  never 
be  forgotten.  In  respect  of  these  things,  let  us  now 
sing  with  David,  "  O  thou  enemy,  destructions  are 
come  to  a  perpetual  end,  and  thou  hast  destroyed 
cities  ;  their  memorial  is  perished  with  them.  But 
the  Lord  shall  endure  forever :  he  hath  prepared  his 
throne  for  judgment."  "  Thy  name,  O  Lord,  endureth 
forever  ;  and  thy  memorial,  O  Lord,  throughout  all 
generations,"  But  let  us  go  away,  with  righteous 
abhorrence,  from  the  demon  of  war,  and  watch  the 
footsteps  of  the  Prince  of  peace,  on  that  evening  when 
he  manifested  forth  his  glory  in  the  manner  narrated 
by  the  evangelist. ^'^ 

According  to  his  wont,  our  Lord  had  been  engaged 
during  the  day,  let  us  suppose,  in  the  neighboring  vil- 
lage of  Nazareth,  in  works  of  benevolence,  in  argu- 
mentation with  his  enemies,  in  the  endurance  of  their 
contradictions,  and  in  the  instruction  of  his  disciples. 
He  looks  wearied,  and  in  need  of  rest ;  but  the  Son 
of  man  has  not  where  to  lay  his  head.  He  is  hungry, 
perhaps,  and  thirsty ;  but  there  are  no  refreshments 
at  hand  ;  no  friend  is  near  to  offer  him  a  cup  of  cold 
water.  What  shall  he  do  ?  It  is  now  evening,  and 
the  dark  clouds  obscure  the  distant  hills,  and  veil  Es- 

♦  Matt.  xvii.  1—13. 


MOUNT    TABOR.  239 

draelon  in  gloom.  All  is  silent  in  the  city,  and  all  are 
sleeping  in  the  plain.  He  watches  the  drowsiness  of 
nature,  after  labor,  falling  upon  his  twelve  attendants, 
and  he  leaves  them  to  find  repose  where  they  could ; 
but  he  quickly  returns,  and  signifies  to  three  of  them 
that  they  must  arise  and  follow  him.  They  do  so ;  as 
it  is  the  invariable  disposition  of  all  who  love  him  to 
go  where  he  bids  them,  especially  to  follow  when  he 
leads  the  way.  But  do  they  not  inquire  whither  he 
is  taking  them  on  a  night  so  dark,  and  across  a  plain 
so  wild  and  inhospitable  ?  No,  they  do  not.  It  is 
theirs  to  acquiesce,  and  wait  to  hear  an  explanation ; 
not  impatiently  to  demand  it.  The  Lord  is  unusually 
quiet ;  he  is  evidently  under  the  solemnizing  antici- 
pation of  some  extraordinary  occurrence.  The  three 
discern  this,  and  they  do  not  intrude  upon  his  musings. 
Still,  curiosity  may  be  at  work,  and  they  may  venture 
to  whisper  among  themselves  what  they  will  not  re- 
mark to  him. 

If  from  Nazareth  they  have  come,  they  have  now 
walked  fully  six  miles ;  a  long  journey  at  such  an 
hour,  and  after  such  a  day's  fatigue ;  but  it  is  not  easy 
to  fag  when  in  the  company  of  the  Saviour,  and  when 
hearing  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  before  us.  At  length 
a  dark  and  immense  object  stands  before  them.  What 
can  this  be  ?  They  approach  it.  It  is  a  mountain  ! 
It  is  Tabor  I  The  disciples  watch  the  motions  of  their 
Master  ;  surely  they  mistake  ;  he  is  not  going  to  scale 
such  a  steep  hill,  after  such  a  long  walk,  and  in  such 
a  wearied  state  of  body  and  mind,  and  expose  both 
himself  and  them  to  the  dangers  of  an  ascent  in  the 
dark?  Yes,  he  is;  for  it  is  written,  "He  bringeth 
them  up  into  an  high  mountain  apart."  Having 
reached  the  spot  on  which  the  exercises  of  the  evening 
are  to  be  observed,  they  notice  that  he  retires  a  little 


240  MOUNT    TABOR. 

from  them,  and  kneels  down  to  engage  in  prayer. 
Some  students  of  the  oracles  here  think,  that  as  he 
was  thus  employed,  the  weakness  of  the  flesh  came 
upon  the  disciples,  and  they  fell  asleep  upon  the  grass. 
Let  us  not  blame  them ;  they  were  but  men,  and  na- 
ture was  overcome.  Besides,  he  had  asigned  them  no 
duty,  and  though  they  could  not  but  admire  his  love 
of  devotion,  they  felt  that  to  imitate  him  in  everything 
was  impossible.  If  it  be  so  that  they  did  now  sleep, 
it  is  singular  that  afterwards,  when  in  the  garden  of 
Gethsemane  he  was  agonized,  these  same  men  also 
gave  way  to  the  same  infirmity.  The  spirit  may  be 
very  willing,  though  the  flesh  be  very  weak.  It  is  com- 
fortable to  us  to  reflect  that  "  he  knoweth  our  frame ; 
he  remembereth  that  we  are  dust." 

How  long  he  remained  in  prayer  is  not  told ;  but, 
as  he  prayed,  a  very  glorious  answer  to  his  petitions 
was  given.  Suddenly  the  mountain  top  became  the 
scene  of  a  brilliant  illumination.  Whereas  all  had 
been  enveloped  in  darkness,  now  all  is  light.  What 
can  this  be  ?  Has  the  sun  arisen  before  his  time,  or 
has  some  new  constellation,  like  "  his  own  star  in  the 
east,"  appeared  to  honor  the  Lord  of  glory?  No. 
That  light  is  not  natural ;  it  is  the  transfiguration  of 
the  Redeemer's  body ;  not  any  change  in  its  substance, 
but  a  change  in  its  external  appearance  has  taken 
place.  Let  an  eye-witness  describe  it:  "  His  face  did 
shine  as  the  sun,  and  his  raiment  was  white  as  the 
light."  So  white,  says  one  evangelist,  ''  as  no  fuller  on 
earth  can  white  them."  This  need  not  surprise  those 
who  believe  the  Saviour  to  be  "  the  imago  of  the  in- 
visible God  ;"  yea,  even  "  the  brightness  of  the  Father's 
glory." 

But  who  are  these  conversing  with  him  so  familiarly 
and  so  pleasantly  ?     Have  the  disciples  arisen  out  of 


MOUNT    TABOR.  241 

their  sleep  and  gone  to  join  their  Lord  in  prayer  ?  No ; 
these  are  two  inhabitants  of  the  invisible  word.  If  so, 
are  they  angels  who  have  been  accustomed  to  be  with 
him  in  this  grand  manifestation  of  his  glory,  and  who 
are  here  to  strengthen  him  for  the  work  before  him  on 
Calvary  ?     No  ;  these  are  men, 

"  Once  like  us  with  suffering  tried, 
But  now  with  glory  crowned." 

The  evangelist  tells  us  that  "they  appeared  in 
glory ;"  which  means  in  glorified  bodies  ;  in  the  same 
kind  of  bodies  that  shall  be  given  to  all  the  saints  in 
the  morning  of  the  resurrection.  That  body  is  to  be 
exceedingly  resplendent.  It  is  evident  that  its  lustre 
must  be  so,  when,  notwithstanding  the  exceeding 
glory  of  the  person  of  Jesus  at  this  time,  these  two 
were  discernible  beside  him.  Let  us  endeavor  to 
recognize  who  they  are.  He  who  stands  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  transfigured  Jesus  is  Moses.  What  sad 
scenes  and  vicissitudes  have  passed  over  Canaan  and 
Israel  since  we  parted  with  him  on  Pisgah !  Then 
and  there  he  died,  but  his  body  was  hid  by  the  Lord. 
Now  for  the  first  time  does  it  re-appear  ;  but  v/hether 
it  had  been  raised  from  the  grave  just  this  very  even- 
ing, and  conveyed  hither,  or  whether  it  had  been  asso- 
ciated for  a  longer  time  with  those  of  Enoch  and 
Elijah  in  heaven,  we  cannot  tell.  Here,  however,  so 
much  of  the  mystery  is  at  last  solved. 

No  man  had  been  more  highly  honored  in  and  by 
the  church  than  Moses.  His  authority  was  next  to 
supreme,  and  "  no  rival  would  be  likely  to  subvert  his 
influence  amongst  the  Jews."  To  him  who  had  been 
the  penman  of  the  Pentateuch ;  the  conqueror  of 
Pharaoh ;  the  legislator  and  the  prophet  of  Israel,  all 
were  willing  to  contribute  their  homage  and  support, 

n 


242  MOUNT    TABOR. 

How  exceedingly  fitting,  then,  to  this  crisis  in  the 
church's  history,  is  the  summons  given  to  this  eminent 
servant  of  God  to  appear  on  Tabor  on  such  a  night  as 
this  !  Whatever  the  foolish  people  whom  he  had  so 
long  to  lead  and  tolerate,  might  think  of  him  in  prefer- 
ence to  Jesus,  here  is  he  himself,  after  he  had  been 
dead  fifteen  hundred  years,  testifying  to  his  Messiah- 
ship,  and  laying  down  the  dispensation,  of  which  he 
was  the  chief,  at  the  feet  of  Mary's  son.  And  why 
should  he  hesitate  ?  That  economy  had  served  its 
day ;  it  w^as  but  a  shadow  after  all ;  and  who  would 
rejoice  more  than  Moses  himself  in  placing  above  it 
the  mighty  substance  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Christ  ? 

But  who  is  he  that  stands  on  the  left  of  the  Saviour  ? 
who  is  this  ?  It  is  Elijah  !  There  stands  the  Tish- 
bite  again ;  the  hero  of  Carmel  is  once  more  on  the 
tops  of  the  mountains.  Bat  *'what  doest  thou  here, 
Elijah?"  Where  hast  thou  been  these  nine  hundred 
years  ?  What  hast  thou  been  doing  since  the  day  on 
which  the  waters  of  Jordan  and  the  hills  of  Judea  saw 
thy  grand  translation  in  the  chariot  of  fire  ? — the  day 
in  the  which  thou  didst,  by  a  v/hirlwind,  go  up  into 
heaven  ?  Ah  !  many  Ahabs  have  made  Israel  to  sin, 
and  many  Baals  have  usurped  the  place  of  thy  God, 
since  last  we  heard  thy  stern  reprovals  of  abounding 
iniquity  !  Elijah  is  here  for  much  the  same  reason  as 
Moses.  He  also  had  represented  an  important  depart- 
ment of  the  Jewish  hierarchy.  He  was  the  chief  of 
the  prophetical  dispensation,  and  now  appeared  in  the 
room  of  every  one  of  them,  from  the  days  of  Enoch  to 
the  days  of  Malachi.  If  the  Jews  clave  to  their  law- 
giver, they  were  also  strongly  attached  to  their  pro- 
phets ;  and  he  could  not  expect  much  favor  in  their 
eyes,  who  should  aspire  to  being  their  superior.  Well, 
fiere  is  prophecy  also  bowing  the  knee  to  our  Lord, 


MOUNT    TABOR.  243 

and  acknowledging  that  he  is  the  person  to  whom  it 
pointed,  and  that  in  him  ancient  predictions  are  al- 
ready, or  are  yet  to  be  accomplished.  How  exceed- 
ingly appropriate,  then,  this  selection  from  among  the 
ransomed  of  the  Lord,  of  Moses  and  Elias ;  who  had, 
of  all  ancient  Jews,  been  most  distinguished  for  religion 
and  usefulness,  and  who  now  united  in  giving  honor  to 
Christ  as  the  great  High  Priest  of  whom  the  one  in 
the  law,  and  the  other  in  the  prophecy  did  write  ! 

But  is  there  nothing  more  involved  in  their  appear- 
ance on  Tabor  than  this  ?  We  think  there  is.  It  is 
admitted  that  the  Shekina,  that  is,  "  the  tabernacled 
presence  and  residence  of  the  Most  High,"  was  an 
emblem  of  the  Son  of  God ;  it  was  the  principal 
theophany,  or  manifestation  of  the  Deity,  in  Old  Tes- 
tament times.  Might  not  this  be  the  "  flaming  sword 
which  turned  every  way,  to  keep  the  way  of  the  tree 
pf  life,"  after  the  expulsion  of  Adam  and  Eve  from 
Paradise  ?  Was  not  this  the  ''  Angel  of  the  Lord," 
so  often  spoken  of  as  appearing  unto  the  patriarchs  ? 
Did  not  Moses,  more  than  any  of  the  sons  of  men, 
frequently  behold  this  Shekina,  at  first  in  the  burning 
bush,  then  on  the  top  of  Sinai,  oft  afterwards  in  the 
pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  and  of  fire  by  night,  then  in  the 
tabernacle,  above  the  mercy  seat?  and,  more  especially, 
was  there  not  given  to  him,  as  a  very  distinguished 
token  of  divine  regard,  an  answer  to  his  prayer,  "  I 
beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory  ?"  ''  Thou  canst  not 
see  my  face,"  said  the  Lord :  "  for  there  shall  no  man 
see  me,  and  live ;  but  thou  shalt  see  my  back  parts." 
Accordingly,  Moses  was  placed  in  a  clift  of  the  rock, 
on  the  top  of  Sinai,  and  "the  Lord  covered  him  with 
his  hand  as  he  passed  by  before  him,  and  proclaimed 
the  name  of  the  Lord."  In  the  case  of  Elijah,  again, 
he  too  had  enjoyed  interviews  with  the  eternal  Son, 


244  MOUNT    TABOR. 

and  had  seen  the  mysterious  fire  come  down  from 
heaven.  On  Horeb,  he  also  had  vouchsafed  to  him  a 
vision  of  a  most  sublime  description.  There,  v^^hile  he 
lodged  in  the  cave,  ''  the  Lord  passed  by,  and  a  great 
and  strong  wind  rent  the  mountains,  and  brake  in 
pieces  the  rocks,  before  the  Lord ;  but  the  Lord  was 
not  in  the  wind  :  and  after  the  wind  an  earthquake  ; 
but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake:  and  after 
the  earthquake  a  fire ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the 
fire :  and  after  the  fire  a  still  small  voice.  And  it 
was  so,  when  Elijah  heard  it,  that  he  wrapped  his 
face  in  his  mantle." 

Thus,  it  appears  that,  in  the  days  of  their  flesh, 
both  of  these  men  had  desired  to  see  the  glory  of  God, 
the  Shekina ;  but  they  were  favored  only  with  such  a 
degree  of  this  mysterious  representative  emblem  as 
their  then  frail  condition  could  sustain.  Now,  how- 
ever, that  the  "  Angel  of  his  presence"  had  been  made 
flesh,  and  was  dwelling  among  men,  and  now  that  the 
respective  heads  of  law  and  prophecy  were  glorified 
themselves,  their  earnest  prayers  were  literally  an- 
swered. Each  of  them,  in  his  mortal  state,  had  been 
a  witness  for  the  Lord,  and  in  a  manner  peculiar  to 
themselves.  Here,  then,  on  Tabor  were  they  privi- 
leged to  identify  the  New  Testament  Saviour  with  the 
Old  Testament  Shekina  ;  teaching  us  that  Christ  was 
not  only  transfigured  in  the  presence,  and  for  the  in- 
struction of  his  disciples,  but  in  the  presence,  and  for 
the  gratification  of  these  two  glorified  men.  Having 
seen,  long  ago,  the  symbol,  their  eyes  now  recognized 
the  reality.  Now  they  got  an  understanding  such  as 
they  never  had  before  of  the  "  Lord  God,  merciful  and 
gracious,"  and  of  "  the  still  small  voice,"  heard  on  the 
occasions  referred  to. 

These  three  glorious  individuals,  we  are  informed, 


MOUNT    TABOR.  245 

entered  into  conversation ;  and  of  what  do  they  speak  ? 
"  Of  the  decease  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem.'* 
What  topic  could  be  more  appropriate  ?  The  hour 
was  very  near  when  that  mysterious  event  was  to 
take  place ;  an  hour  big  with  the  mightiest  events. 
Everything  depended  on  it.  The  truth  and  honor 
alike  of  Moses  and  EHjah,  the  salvation  of  a  lost 
world,  the  glory  of  Jehovah,  depended  on  it.  Why, 
then,  should  not  those  who  were  so  deeply  implicated 
in  its  accomplishment,  appear  at  such  a  season,  to 
strengthen  and  encourage  him  to  go  forward  ?  Often 
had  he  appeared  to  them,  when  he  sojourned  among 
men,  to  support  their  fainting  hearts,  and  now  it  falls 
to  them  to  cheer  him  on  to  the  grand  conclusion  of 
the  whole  matter.  How  singularly  interesting  is  this ! 
The  angel  of  the  Covenant  condescending  to  take 
countenance  and  aid  from  those  whom  he  had  em- 
ployed as  his  instruments  ! 

Blessed  Jesus  !  we,  too,  would  take  thy  yoke,  and 
learn  of  thee  ;  for  truly  thou  art  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart.  We  cannot  too  much  extol  the  sovereign  dis- 
posal of  thy  life,  when,  before  it  was  endangered,  thou 
couldst  make  it  the  topic  of  thy  talk  with  two  glorified 
men  ;  from  which  we  learn  that  thou  hadst  "power  to 
lay  it  down,  and  power  to  take  it  up  again."  We  see 
with  joy,  and  we  acknowledge  with  gratitude,  that 
what  thou  didst  suffer  for  us,  was  suffered  deliberately, 
and  that  thy  decease  was  a  voluntary  propitiation  for 
our  sins.     Amen ;  for  so  it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight. 

But  what  have  become  of  Peter,  James,  and  John? 
We  left  them  asleep.  It  could  not,  however,  have 
been  of  long  duration.  The  transactions  of  Tabor 
must  be  witnessed,  not  only  for  their  particular  con- 
firmation in  the  faith,  but  for  the  comfort  of  the  whole 
Christian  church.    So  soon,  then,  as  they  were  aroused 


246  MOUNT    TABOR. 

from  slumber,  a  glorious  sight  met  their  enraptured 
vision.  How  lilve  to  the  surprise  of  the  believing  soul 
when  it  passes  at  death  out  of  this  shady  scene  into 
the  bright  visions  of  the  skies  !  They  had  lain  down 
in  thick  darkness,  and  the  last  position  in  which  they 
had  seen  their  Master  was  significant  of  his  humilia- 
tion and  dependence.  What  a  contrast  now !  They 
can  scarce  at  first  credit  their  wakefulness.  There 
stands  the  man  whom  their  souls  love,  the  same  Jesus, 
and  yet  how  changed  !  How  passing  lovely  !  How 
indescribably  beautiful  and  glorious  is  that  well-known 
face  !  Can  it  be  he  ?  or  are  they  in  a  dream  ?  They 
look  around,  and  down  the  mountain  side.  All  there, 
and  across  Esdraelon,  is  hid  in  midnight  gloom  ;  and 
yet  when  they  turn  towards  the  Redeemer,  behold 
what  glory !  They  must  have  been  in  some  degree 
stupefied,  else  Peter  would  not  have  burst  out  with 
such  a  rapture  as  this,  ''  Lord,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be 
here  ;  let  us  make  three  tabernacles ;  one  for  thee,  and 
one  for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elias."  This  is  scarcely 
the  place  for  entering  into  any  analysis  of  this  strange 
proposition.  We  only  remark  that  it  discovers  his 
singular  knowledge  of  the  identity  of  the  persons 
beside  his  Master.  He  had  never  seen  either  the  one 
or  the  other,  and  yet  he  knew  both.  There  is  but  one 
way  of  accounting  for  this  ;  the  discerning  was  super- 
natural ;  it  was  given  him  from  above. 

Our  Lord  made  no  reply  to  Peter.  There  seems, 
indeed,  to  have  been  no  time  for  reply ;  for  instantly 
on  his  uttering  these  words,  down  through  the  dark 
canopy  of  heaven  came  a  great  and  bright  cloud  and 
overshadowed  them  all.  Three  men  fell  as  dead  to 
the  ground,  and  other  three  men  awaited  the  cloud's 
approach  without  a  fear.     How  came  it  to  be  thus  ? 


MOUNT    TABOR.  247 

The  one  half  of  the  company  on  Tabor  that  night 
were  merely  citizens  of  this  earth  ;  none  of  them  had 
ever  seen  the  invisible  glory  of  Jehovah,  and  none  of 
them  had  tasted  of  death,  or  been  the  subjects  of  a 
glorious  translation.  Now,  it  is  written,  that  the 
eternal  Father  was  in  that  very  cloud.  To  Moses 
and  Elijah  this  is  no  strange  sight,  they  had  seen  it 
often  ;  they  were  glorified  men,  and  had  seen  it  in  the 
sanctuary  above.  But  no  mere  man  can  see  God's 
face  and  live.  Hence,  when  our  Lord  comes,  it  is  not 
only  our  duty  but  our  safety  to  hide  our  face  in  the 
dust. 

As  the  disciples  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground,  they 
heard  a  voice  out  of  the  cloud.  And  what  did  it  say  ? 
O,  glorious  intelligence  !  O,  good  tidings  of  great  joy  ! 
*'  This  is  my  beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased; 
hear  ye  him."  On  the  word  and  assurance  of  that  God 
who  cannot  lie,  we  therefore  know  that  the  sufferer 
on  the  cross  was  the  eternal  Son  of  God.  Yes,  Tabor, 
thy  resplendent  lights  illumine  the  passage  of  the 
man  of  sorrows  onwards  to  the  darkness  and  horrors 
of  the  cross,  and  thy  divine  voices  drown  the  shoutings 
and  imprecations  of  the  rabble  at  the  foot  of  Calvary  ! 
We  do  not  heed  them.  No  sooner,  then,  had  these 
words  been  heard,  than  the  disciples  feel  one  touching 
them.  They  start,  and  look  up.  It  is  Christ ;  but 
how  changed  again  I  The  cloud  is  gone  up ;  the 
light  of  the  sun  is  away  from  his  face  and  garments  ; 
and  Moses  and  Elias  are  departed,  never  to  re-appear 
in  this  world,  till  the  archangel's  trumpet  shall  sound. 
Seeing  no  man,  save  Jesus  only,  and  hearing  his 
encouraging  words,  "  Arise,  and  be  not  afraid,"  they 
obey,  and  follow  him  down  the  steep  of  Tabor  to  the 
valley.     Such  was  the  transfiguration  of  Christ  on 


248  MOUJNT    TABOR. 

Tabor.  The  whole  scene  is  vocal  with  eloquent  and 
impressive  testimonies,  to  a  few  of  which  let  as  joy- 
fully listen. 


PART   II. 

THE    TESTIMONIES    OF    TABOR. 

JESUS THE    SON    OF    GOD MESSIAH HARBINGER    OF    IMMOR- 
TALITY  CENTRE    OF    ATTRACTION    TO    HOLY    BEINGS. 

I.  Tabor  testifies  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of 
God. — Evidence  of  his  personal  relationship  to  Jeho- 
vah was  indispensable,  and  for  the  following  reason : — 
It  was  prophesied  of  old  that  the  child  born  of  the  vir- 
gin was  to  be  the  "  mighty  God  ;"  "  Emmanuel,  God 
with  us ;"  and  the  angel,  in  intimating  to  Mary  the 
future  birth  of  the  Saviour,  distinctly  told  her  that  her 
son  was  to  be  called  "  the  Son  of  God."  To  verify 
these  premonitions,  Jehovah,  on  two  separate  occa- 
sions, condescended  to  an  audible  proclamation  of 
their  being  fulfilled  in  Christ.  He  did  so  on  the  banks 
of  the  Jordan,  when  the  forerunner  was  baptizing  him ; 
and  he  did  so  on  Tabor,  when  the  glorified  hierarchy 
were  worshipping  him.  What  can  be  inferred  from 
all  this,  but  that  the  Father  attaches  the  highest  im- 
portance to  the  doctrine  of  the  Sonship  of  our  Saviour  ? 
This  need  not  surprise  us;  for  there  is  not  another 
doctrine  in  Christianity  to  be  compared  with  it  in 
point  of  value.  It  is  the  basis  of  the  whole  gospel 
structure ;  the  sun  in  the  centre  of  its  system ;  the 
alpha  and  the  omega  of  its  theology.  Hence,  to 
understand  Christianity  aright,  we  must  begin  with 


MOUNT    TABOR.  249 

clear  and  simple  ideas  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  per- 
son, or  of  the  hypostatical  union  in  him  of  the  human 
and  divine  natures.  Much,  if  not  the  whole  of  the 
confused  and  cheerless  notions  that  many  have  of  the 
Gospel,  may  be  traced  to  their  never  having  devoted 
their  minds  to  this  great  and  weighty  truth,  with  its 
cognates.  We  are  persuaded,  that  if  the  attention 
were  fu-st  of  all  fixed  upon  this  doctrine,  and  if  distinct 
apprehensions  were  formed  of  it,  the  remaining  lessons 
of  Christianity,  in  all  their  amplitude  and  grandeur, 
would  be  more  easily  acquired,  and  would  be  a  much 
more  fertile  source  of  comfort  to  the  believing  mind. 
Since  it  is  so,  what  reason  have  we  to  thank  God  that 
there  is  such  abundance  of  lucid  and  forcible  testi- 
mony upon  that  subject  in  the  oracles  I  No  dojibt 
the  doctrine  taught  may  in  itself  be  mysterious ;  but. 
as  to  what  the  doctrine  is  that  is  there  taught,  wo 
cannot  remain  in  doubt. 

To  ascertain  the  truth  we  have  only  to  open  the 
Bible.  Its  pages  are  replete  with  evidence  that  the 
Redeemer  of  men  is  allied  to  them  by  nature,  and 
also  that  he  is  partaker  of  the  nature  of  God ;  in  other 
words,  that  he  is  both  God  and  man,  in  two  distinct 
natures,  but  in  one  person,  and  that  this  union  is  to 
exist  forever.  Our  Lord's  claims  of  divinity  were, 
therefore,  unequivocal,  and  his  works  corroborated  the 
truth  of  his  words.  It  is  not  required  in  this  exercise 
that  we  quote  the  Scriptural  proofs  at  any  length.  It 
seems  enough  just  to  glance  at  the  testimony  borne  by 
Tabor,  which  is  not  the  least  among  the  thousands 
of  the  Bible  that  bear  upon  the  same  topic.  The  voice 
from  the  cloud  said,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased  ;  hear  ye  him."  It  is  of  im- 
portance to  notice  the  use  made  by  the  apostle  Peter 
of  this  divine  testimony  to  the  proper  Deity  or  Son- 

11=^ 


250  MOUNT    TABOR. 

ship  of  Christ.  That  Messiah  was  to  be  the  "  Son  of 
the  Highest,"  was  a  prophecy  in  ancient  times ;  but, 
says  Peter,  ^'  this  voice  which  came  from  heaven  we 
heard  when  we  were  with  him  in  the  holy  mount. 
We  have  also  a  more  sure  word  of  prophecy ;"  or,  as 
the  original  words  should  be  rendered,  "  we  have  the 
prophetical  word  made  more  sure."=^  How  "made 
more  sure?"  By  the  voice,  of  course,  which  they 
heard  from  the  excellent  glory.  If  he  is  a  Son,  then 
on  Tabor  his  Father  claims  him.  If  his  Father  be 
God,  then  what  else  can  the  Son  of  God  be  ?  The 
offspring  of  man  is  human,  the  Son  of  God  is  divine. 

The  application  of  this  term,  "  Son  of  God,"  is 
made  to  Jesus  with  significations  widely  different 
from  its  application,  in  other  Scriptures,  to  mere  crea- 
tures. It  is  not  a  mere  official  designation  to  intimate 
his  mediatorial  relationship  to  Jehovah,  but  a  mystical 
revelation  of  divine  filial  relationship.  No  doubt  it  is 
incomprehensible  to  us  how  a  son,  abstractly  so  con- 
sidered, can  be  coeval  and  coequal  with  a  father  ;  but 
if  we  are  to  cast  truth  away  on  that  ground,  we  may 
very  speedily  make  shipwreck  of  the  most  of  our  faith. 
The  fact  of  the  Sonship  is  easily  ascertained  ;  it  is  the 
philosophy  only  of  the  fact  that  is  incomprehensible. 
The  peculiar  manner  in  which,  all  along  in  the  Bible, 
that  language  is  applied  to  Jesus,  teaches  that  it  must 
refer  to  something  altogether  more  lofty  and  inscru- 
table than  the  mere  mediatorial  connection.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  stronger  proof  of  this  than  what  our  Lord's 
own  words  afford  when  conversing  with  the  Jewish 
rabbi ;  and  beautiful  and  consoling  words  they  indeed 
are  in  many  other  respects :  "  For  God  so  loved  the 
world,  that  he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  who- 

*  '  BiPatdrepov  f  TTp()<pr}TiKov  Xoyov.     2  Pet.  i.  19, 


MOUNT    TABOR.  251 

soever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life." 

The  apostle  also,  wTiting  to  the  Hebrews  concern- 
ing the  obedience  and  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  very 
plainly  holds  forth  his  Sonship,  not  as  belonging  ex- 
clusively to  his  mediatorial  character,  but  primarily 
to  his  original  and  underived  glory  as  the  eternal  Son 
of  God.  At  the  eighth  verse  of  the  fifth  chapter  he 
thus  writes  :  "  Though  he  were  a  Son,  yet  learned  he 
obedience  by  the  things  which  he  suffered."  Now,  if 
the  Spirit  of  God  intended  to  teach  that  his  Sonship 
was  merely  an  official  relation,  a  different  form  of 
speech  must  have  been  employed.  In  virtue  of  his 
voluntary  engagement,  as  the  surety  of  the  better 
covenant,  and  of  the  commandment  of  the  Father,  and 
which  he  obeyed  when  he  gave  up  his  life  a  ransom 
for  many,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  obey,  and 
suffer,  and  "  learn  obedience  by  the  things  which  he 
suffered ;"  ''  for  it  became  him  for  whom  are  all 
things,  and  by  whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing 
many  sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their 
salvation  perfect  through  sufferings."  Now,  had  he 
been  a  son  in  the  inferior  sense,  the  truth  would  have 
been  much  better  expressed  thus  :  ''  because  he  was  a 
son,  he  learned  obedience  by  the  things  which  he  suf- 
fered." It  is  not  so,  however,  in  the  Scripture.  The 
Holy  Ghost  says,  '•  though  he  were  a  Son,"  that  is, 
though  he  is  a  son,  the  Son  of  God,  and  from  eternity 
bearing  to  the  Father  this  infinitely  mysterious  rela- 
tion, necessarily  above  all  law,  and  therefore  under  no 
obligation  to  obey  or  to  suffer,  "  yet  learned  he  obe- 
dience by  the  things  which  he  suffered."  This  is  the 
grand  proof  and  illustration  of  the  love  of  Christ, 
which  passeth  knowledge,  and  with  which  (the  riches 
of  his  love,)  the  result  fully  and  delightfully  corre- 


252  MOUNT    TABOR. 

sponds.  "  And  being  made  perfect,"  adds  the  apostle, 
in  the  ninth  verse,  "  he  became  the  author  of  eternal 
salvation  unto  all  them  that  obey  him." 

Connecting,  then,  these  Scriptures  with  the  Father's 
two  declarations  of  the  relationship  of  Christ  to  him, 
we  consider  them  as  decidedly  condemnatory  of  the 
dogma  that  Christ's  Sonship  is  a  simple  official  desig- 
nation. The  attempt  so  to  understand  and  explain  it 
takes  away  from  us  a  very  large  and  valuable  amount 
of  the  evidence  for  the  supreme  Deity  of  the  Saviour. 
As,  then,  we  descend  from  this  mountain,  where  his 
relationship  to  the  Eternal  was  declared,  let  us  testify 
to  all  who  will  hear,  in  the  words  of  one  of  the  wit- 
nesses of  that  night's  glory,  "  We  beheld  his  glory, 
the  glory  as  of  the  only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full 
of  grace  and  truth." 

II.  Tabor  testifies  that  Jesus  is  the  Messiah. — 
The  Jews  did  not  over-estimate  the  importance  of 
testing  the  claims  of  the  son  of  Mary  to  the  Messiah- 
ship.  Their  sin  lay  not  in  seeking  for  evidence  upon 
this  point,  but  in  rejecting  the  evidence  adduced.  It 
was  sufficient  to  settle  the  question ;  we  might  say 
more  than  sufficient,  only  one  cannot  conceive  of  re- 
dundancy in  the  dispensations  of  God.  By  a  long 
and  divine  course  of  training  they  had  been  taught  to 
look  for  the  Shiloh,  and  it  became  them  to  examine 
the  pretensions  of  any  one  to  be  that  personage  ;  the 
more  especially  when  we  consider  that  our  Lord  him- 
self spoke  of  the  "  false  Christ"  who  should  appear  in 
those  days.  There  were  different  classes  of  evidence 
led  as  proof  of  his  Messiahship.  The  time  of  his  ap- 
pearance corresponded  to  what  was  the  general  belief 
on  the  subject.  All  the  circumstances  of  his  birth, 
birth-place,  parentage,  and  early  life,  were  in  exact  keep- 
ing with  the  predictions  that  went  before  concerning 


MOUNT    TABOR.  253 

these  things.  The  whole  manner  of  his  life,  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  was  unique,  consistent,  and  com- 
prehensive, as  regards  all  that  was  expected  of  him  who 
was  to  come  in  the  name  of  the  Highest  to  redeem  his 
people ;  and  over  and  above  all,  his  splendid  miracles 
and  divine  teaching  set  the  seal  of  Jehovah  upon  his 
powerful  credentials.  Such  proofs  were  in  everybody's 
hands,  and  ought  to  have  commanded  for  him  a  uni- 
versal and  enthusiastic  welcome. 

We  have  reason  to  believe  that  more  privileged  per- 
sons, who  lived  near  to  our  Lord's  person,  and  were 
favored  with  his  private  friendship,  received  additional 
evidence  to  this  of  his  Messiah  ship  ;  hence  the  com- 
parative greatness  of  their  faith,  and  the  manifest 
heartiness  and  sincerity  of  their  devotedness  to  him. 
Passing  by  the  charms  of  his  familiar  intercourse,  the 
disclosures  of  amiable  character,  the  development  of  the 
touching  sympathies  of  a  sinless  humanity  among  the 
few  to  whom  he  unbosomed  himself  at  home,  the  sus- 
tained and  harmonious  embodiment  in  his  every  look, 
word,  and  deed,  of  all  he  taught  in  public,  and  the  in- 
dulgences he  would  allow  to  propose  questions  for  in- 
formation, and  guidance,  and  comfort — all  of  which 
would  unquestionably  impress  their  minds  with  strong 
persuasions  of  his  divine  commission ;  passing  these, 
let  us  simply  refer  to  the  evidence  from  Tabor,  where 
he  was  transfigured. 

The  scene  was  only  witnessed  by  three  of  his  disci- 
ples ;  but  this  was  a  competent  number.  It  was  as 
much  as  the  law  demanded  to  substantiate  truth  or 
fact ;  and  the  force  of  the  testimony  is  not  abated  but 
strengthened  by  the  consideration  of  the  witnesses 
chosen.  They  were,  perhaps,  the  most  eminent  of  the 
twelve,  and  the  best  fitted  to  be  entrusted  with  such  a 
grand  discovery.     Peter  was  to  be  the  foremost  of 


254  MOUNT    TABOR. 

them  all  in  preaching  the  glorious  gospel,  both  to  Jews 
and  Gentiles,  after  that  Christ  was  risen  from  the 
dead.  Destined,  then,  for  such  a  distinguished  place 
in  the  apostolic  college,  it  was  fit  that  he  should  be  on 
Tabor.  In  a  sense  in  which  he  did  not  mean  it,  "  it 
was  good  for  him  to  be  there."  James,  again,  was  to 
be  the  foremost  of  them  all  in  the  ranks  of  martyrdom, 
he  being  the  first  apostle  who  shed  his  blood  in  testify- 
ing to  the  truth.  It  was  therefore  good  for  him  also 
to  be  there.  And  as  for  John,  the  beloved  disciple,  we 
know  how  necessary  his  labors  of  love  were  in  the  in- 
fancy of  the  church,  to  diffuse  harmony  among  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  Lamb,  and  to  denounce  heresy  among  the 
enemies  of  his  cross.  He  was  the  youngest  of  his  fel- 
lows, but  he  lived  to  finish  the  volume  of  inspiration, 
and  then,  it  is  conjectured,  surrendered  his  life  that  the 
gospel  might  not  be  frustrated.  These  three  men  bear 
evidence  to  the  transfiguration,  and  their  testimony 
must  be  received. 

And  who  on  receiving  it  can  resist  its  force  ?  If  he 
who  was  thus  irradiated  with  celestial  glory — who  was 
thus  attended  by  celestial  inhabitants,  once  great  and 
useful  among  the  ancient  people  of  God,  and  concern- 
ing whom  the  voice  from  the  cloud,  which  was  the 
voice  of  God,  so  solemnly  declared  that  he  was  God's 
Son — if  he  is  not  Messiah,  and  if  this  be  not  proof 
that  he  is  so,  who  is  he  ?  And  when  Messiah  comes, 
can  he  receive  better  testimony  than  this  ?  Let  us 
thank  God  that  permission  was  given  to  these  three 
witnesses  to  tell  to  the  world  what  they  saw  that 
night.  It  must  have  cost  them  some  self-restraint  to 
keep  it,  as  they  did,  so  long  a  secret,  even  from  their 
fellow-disciples ;  but  when  the  time  came  specified  by 
their  Master  for  divulging  the  secret,  how  glad  and 
confident  in  their  Lord  would  they  become ;  not  per- 


MOUNT    TABOR.  255 

haps  that  any  of  them  then  doubted,  but  that  this 
afforded  additional  confirmation  of  the  truths  they 
were  now  commanded  to  preach  and  to  teach  in  every 
nation.  It  has  been  recorded  for  our  faith  and  comfort 
in  Christ ;  and  we  only  answer  the  ends  of  its  revela- 
tion when  we  meditate  upon  it  as  a  proof  that  the  son 
of  Mary  is  not  only  the  Son  of  God,  but  the  promised 
Shiloh.  It  ought  to  be  much  reflected  upon,  in  order 
to  increase  our  sense  of  its  importance ;  that  if  it 
were  so,  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  not  the  Messiah, 
then  the  redemption  of  the  world  is  not  secured,  and 
all  our  hopes  for  time  and  eternity  are  on  a  false  foun- 
dation. But  the  scenes  on  Tabor  prove  him  to  be  the 
very  individual  of  whom  Moses  and  the  prophets  did 
write.  As,  then,  we  descend  from  its  sacred  summit, 
let  us  say  to  one  another,  and  proclaim  to  all  around  us, 
as  Andrew  did  to  his  brother  Simon,  "  We  have  found 
the  Messias,  which  is,  being  interpreted,  The  Christ.'' 
III.  Tabor  testifies  that  Jesus  is  the  harbinger 

OF  LIFE  AND  IMMORTALITY. Thc   diviuC  purpOSO  of   Sal- 

vation  is  declared  by  the  apostle  to  have  been  made 
"  manifest  by  the  appearing  of  our  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ,  who  hath  abolished  death,  and  hath  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  gospel." 
This  scripture  clearly  intimates  that  these  truths  were 
previously  in  the  dark,  and  that  but  for  him,  in  the 
dark  they  must  have  forever  remained.  That  the 
doctrine  of  the  soul's  immortality  was  hid  previous  to 
revelation,  is  true.  We  admit  there  were  theories 
about  it.  The  more  enlightened  and  thoughtful  of  the 
heathen  sages  speculated  on  the  probability  of  it ;  but 
further  than  a  conjecture,  unaided  reason  never  ven- 
tured. The  gospel  let  out  the  secret ;  and  there  are 
few  positions  from  which  that  gospel  is  viewed,  where 
the  obligations  under  which  it  has  laid  mankind  are 


256  MOUNT    TABOR. 

felt  to  be  more  weighty.  Let  us  only  remember  that 
the  truth  of  our  immortality  remains,  even  though  we 
be  ignorant  of  it ;  that  to  die  ignorant  of  it  is  certain 
and  eternal  destruction  to  the  soul;  that  the  mere 
fears  that  it  may  be  immortal  have  never  led  men  to 
true  piety,  nor  imparted  to  them  true  consolation ; 
that  the  world  w^as  left  for  ages  and  generations  to  try 
its  own  capacities  for  discovering  such  a  truth,  and 
uniformly  failed,  even  when  coming  nearest  in  its 
guesses  to  the  invaluable  doctrine  ;  and  that  the  proud- 
est philosophical  dogmas  on  the  subject  afford  no 
security  to  man  as  a  fallen  and  guilty  sinner  ;  let  us 
remember  these  things  when  we  read  the  gospel,  which 
alone  brings  that  grand  truth  to  light. 

Yes  !  that  gospel  goes  throughout  the  regions  of 
stupid  superstition ;  it  goes  up  to  the  high  places  of 
vaunting  reason ;  it  goes  down  to  the  depths  of  gro- 
velling infidelity,  and  finds  man  groping  about  in  the 
darlf ,  and  miserably  ignorant  of  his  own  blindness.  It 
then  takes  him  kindly  but  firmly  by  the  hand,  and 
leads  him  down  from  Baal's  heights,  away  from  rea- 
son's groves,  and  up  from  the  shambles  of  scepticism. 
Somewhat  loath,  in  the  pride  of  his  humbled  intellect, 
to  be  guided  solely  by  this  celestial  teacher,  he  would 
fain  hang  back  a  little,  to  give  partial  recognition  to 
the  old  blind  guides  he  is  commanded  to  abandon ;  but 
the  gospel  allows  no  compromise,  and  it  forbids  all 
halting  between  two  opinions.  Determined  to  enter 
man  a  pupil  in  the  school  of  one  called  Christ  Jesus, 
it  waits  not  and  wearies  not  till  he  is  sitting  at  the 
Saviour's  feet,  "  clothed,  and  in  his  right  mind." 
What  a  change  will  soon  be  produced  upon  him  !  He 
listens  to  that  master.  His  cars  are  filled  with  strange 
sounds,  not  only  new  to  him,  but  full  of  exquisite 
gladness.     His  attention  is  now  secured.     The  teacher 


MOUNT    TABOR.  257 

sent  from  God  proceeds  with  his  lessons,  unfolding 
truth  upon  truth  concerning  God  and  futurity,  man 
and  responsibility,  Christ  and  salvation,  life  and  immor- 
tality. Witness  the  change  upon  the  disciple  now! 
He  has  heard  enough.  His  mind  at  first  is  in  the 
whirl  of  a  mighty  and  overawing  revolution.  The 
shadows  of  the  night  are  fleeing  fast  away  ;  the  terror- 
ism of  dreamy  speculation  is  removed ;  the  spectres  of 
morbid  fancy  disappear ;  and  he  finds  his  soul  in  the 
midst  of  a  great  and  shining  light,  almost  too  brilliant 
at  the  first  for  its  eye  to  gaze  upon.  His  conjectures 
have  fled,  and  certainties  take  their  place ;  his  doubts 
are  dead,  and  now  he  lives  by  faith ;  his  reason  is 
enlightened  by  revelation,  and  now  falls  down  and 
worships  at  the  shrine  of  that  "  wisdom  which  is  from 
above." 

The  scene  on  Tabor  is  beautifully  illustrative  of  this. 
There  stand  two  men,  one  of  whom  died  fifteen  hun- 
dred years,  and  the  other  was  translated  nine  hundred 
years,  before  Christ.  Certain  it  is,  that  when  man 
dies  and  leaves  this  world,  he  is  still  in  existence  ;  he 
lives  somewhere  in  the  universe  of  God,  and  is  never 
to  .be  annihilated.  This  doctrine  is  not  taught  merely 
on  the  mountain  before  us ;  it  is  practically  illustrated. 
These  two  glorious  persons  were  once  dwellers  on  the 
earth  ;  this  could  not  be  denied.  Centuries  have 
rolled  away,  and  there  they  are  again ;  changed,  it  is 
true,  in  most  important  respects,  but  their  identity  is 
indisputable.  That  is  Moses,  the  man  of  God,  and 
that  other  is  Elijah,  the  prophet.  Where  they  have 
been  all  this  long  time,  and  what  they  have  been 
doing,  we  cannot  tell ;  but  there  they  are  now,  stand- 
ing on  Tabor's  summit,  beside  the  Lord  of  glory,  and 
in  eager  and  interested  conversation  with  him,  as  still 
living  and  intelligent  beings.     Does  not  Tabor,  then, 


258  MOUNT    TABOR. 

proclaim  the  immortality  of  thy  soul,  O  man,  O  sinful 
man  ?  It  does.  Arouse  thee,  arouse  thee  from  thy 
lethargy,  and  let  not  thy  soul  perish  through  unbelief! 

But  before  we  leave  this  theme,  let  us  look  once 
more  at  these  celestial  visitors  :  it  is  long  since  we 
beheld  them :  their  stay  with  us  is  to  be  short ;  let  us 
make  the  best  of  it.  True,  they  tell  us  that  the  soul 
is  immortal ;  but  they  add  to  this  a  most  interesting 
piece  of  intelligence,  namely,  that  the  body  as  well 
as  the  soul  is  to  live  forever.  Moses  died,  and  was 
buried  by  the  Lord,  even  by  him  at  whose  side  he  now 
stands.  It  is  therefore  evident  that  by  the  Son  of  God 
his  body  has  been  raised  from  the  gi*ave;  for  there  it 
is,  and  again  inhabited  by  his  now  glorified  spirit. 
That  is  the  body  once  sown  in  corruption,  now  raised 
in  incorruption ;  once  sown  in  dishonor,  now  raised  in 
glory ;  once  sown  in  weakness,  now  raised  in  power ; 
once  sown  a  natural  body,  now  raised  a  spiritual  body ! 
Yes !  in  yon  resplendent  saint  is  already  accomplished 
the  saying  that  is  written,  "  Death  is  swallowed  up  in 
victory."  Let  Tabor,  then,  take  up  the  harp  and  sing 
to  us,  in  the  language  of  an  ancient  prophet,  ''  Thy 
dead  men  shall  live,  together  with  my  dead  body  shall 
they  arise.  Awake  and  sing,  ye  that  dwell  in  dust : 
for  thy  dew  is  as  the  dew  of  herbs,  and  the  earth  shall 
cast  out  the  dead."  Neither,  my  friends,  let  us  be 
silent  on  such  an  occasion,  but,  as  we  leave  this  mag- 
nificent exhibition,  let  us  re-echo  these  strains  in  the 
shout  of  faith,  "O  death!  where  is  thy  sting?  O 
grave !  where  is  thy  victory  ?  Thanks  be  unto  God, 
who  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ." 

IV.    Tabor    testifies  that  jesus    is   the  centre 

OF  ATTRACTION  TO  ALL  IN  HEAVEN,  AND  THEMEDIUM  BY 
WHICH  THEY    BECOME  ACQUAINTED  WITH    ONE  ANOTHER. 


MOUNT    TABOR.  259 

On  the  summit  of  this  mountain  appeared  ''  the 
first  and  the  last,  the  wisest  and  the  best  of  beings," 
the  eternal  Father.  And  who  attracts  Jehovah  to 
this  spot  ? — Jesus  Christ,  his  own  Son,  and  the 
Saviour  of  sinners  !  What  love  must  the  Father 
have  to  such  a  Son  I  what  delight  in  his  work,  and 
what  confidence  in  his  faithfulness  !  To  no  created 
intelligence  could  Jesus  be  an  object  of  such  deep 
interest  as  he  was  to  him  who  sent  him.  It  was  his 
Father's  glory  he  was  seeking  in  the  recovery  of  that 
Father's  lost  children.  Hence,  all  along,  from  the 
cradle  to  the  cross,  was  our  Saviour  uninterruptedly 
attended  by  the  ever-blessed  Jehovah.  At  any  period 
of  his  weary  life,  Messiah  could  say  with  truth,  "  I 
am  not  alone,  because  the  Father  is  with  me."  If  it 
was  so,  when  the  accomplishment  of  the  work  given 
him  to  do  was  yet  future,  surely  it  is  so  still,  now  that 
that  work  is  finished,  and  finished  to  the  entire  satis- 
faction, not  only  of  infinite  wisdom,  but  of  infinite 
love.  On  the  cross,  to  serve  the  mysterious  ends  of 
God's  inscrutable  purposes,  the  Father  forsook  his 
darling  Son  ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  very  little  while  ; 
for  now,  on  the  same  throne,  they  sit  together  in 
heavenly  places,  Jehovah  beside  Jesus,  and  Jesus 
beside  Jehovah.  The  attractions  are  mutual,  and  in 
either  case  transcendently  glorious.  It  is  an  infinite 
love  for  the  Father  that  governs  this  proximity  of  the 
Son  to  him,  and  it  is  an  infinite  satisfaction  and  delight 
in  the  Son  that  draws  the  Father  to  that  august  temple, 
where  his  only-begotten  receives  the  worship  of  the 
ransomed,  and  administers  the  affairs  of  the  universe. 
But  the  same  truth,  with  obvious  modifications, 
may  be  affirmed  of  all  the  holy  intelligences  of  the 
upper  sanctuary.  The  appearance  of  Moses  and  Elijah 
on  Tabor,  tells  us  of  the  interest  which  the  inhabitants 


260  MOUNT    TABOR. 

above  take  in  the  author  of  their  redemption,  and  in 
the  finisher  of  their  faith.  The  commission  given  to 
these  two  glorified  beings  to  attend  upon  the  Redeemer 
on  this  evening  would  no  doubt  be  joyfully  responded 
to,  and  speedily  would  they  wing  their  flight  from 
the  heights  of  Zion  to  the  top  of  Tabor.  Many  a 
glorious  sun,  and  moon,  and  planet,  they  might  require 
to  pass  on  their  way  to  our  earth,  every  one  of  them 
surpassing  in  created  grandeur,  and  perhaps  in  moral 
and  religious  attractions  too,  the  fallen  world  to  which 
they  were  bound.  But  they  looked  not  to  the  right 
hand  nor  to  the  left,  and  though  wooed  by  the  exquisite 
beauties  of  the  Creator's  power  through  which  they 
travelled,  they  felt  no  inclination  to  halt  by  the  way. 
To  the  old  habitation  of  men,  where  they  had  been 
born,  and  where  they  had  served  God  in  their  genera- 
tion, they  hied  them  without  arrestment  of  thought 
or  relaxation  of  speed.  To  be  once  more  on  that  earth ; 
to  be  on  a  mountain  top ;  to  behold  again  some  display 
of  Jehovah's  glory  ;  and  above  all,  to  see  what  they 
had  never  seen,  and  to  adore  as  they  never  had  done, 
the  incarnate  Son  of  God,  who  was  about  to  verify 
all  their  ancient  predictions,  and  thus  secure  the  salva- 
tion of  sinners ;  these,  these  were  motives  which  so 
wrapt  up  their  souls  in  intense  eagerness,  as  to  make 
them  forget  that  there  were  any  other  worlds  than 
ours,  and  any  other  mountains  on  its  surface  than 
Tabor,  where  the  grand  transfiguration  was  to  take 
place. 

Now,  this  speed  of  heart  and  soul  towards  Christ 
is  a  beautiful  representation  of  what  goes  on  at  this 
moment  in  heaven.  From  all  regions  of  the  celestial 
country  do  they  hasten  to  pay  him  divine  honors. 
And  this  they  do,  not  only  because  he  is  the  King  of 
that  country,  but  because  he  is  their  Saviour.     They 


MOUNT    TABOR.  261 

are  universally  and  perpetually  attracted  to  him,  not 
merely  to  worship  him,  but  to  see  him  whom  their 
souls  love.  Devotion  and  love  are  their  wings  ;  and 
it  is  inconceivable  with  what  velocity,  on  such  wings, 
they  are  carried  into  the  presence  of  such  a  friend. 
On  similar  pinions,  indeed,  though  somewhat  clogged 
with  the  heavy  dews  of  this  Boeotian  clime,  do  all  his 
lovers  here  fly  to  him,  that  he  may  cover  them  with 
his  own  feathers,  and  ultimately  raise  and  enfold  them 
in  his  own  bosom.  But  the  most  ethereal  saintship 
in  the  church  militant  bears  no  comparison  with  the 
perfected  holiness  of  the  heavenly  choirs  now  surround- 
ing the  throne  of  God.  Above  and  around  that 
throne  they  flock,  in  tens  of  thousands,  by  night  and 
by  day.  They  never  weary  of  gazing  upon  him  ;  they 
never  cease  ascribing  praises  to  him ;  and  they  are 
ever  ready  to  take  the  wings  of  the  morning  and  fly 
to  the  uttermost  of  his  magnificent  universe,  on  his 
errands  of  love,  of  mercy,  or  of  judgment.  What 
ardor  ! — what  zeal ! — what  enraptured  love  beam  from 
every  eye  !  — what  swelling,  gorgeous  music  isssues 
from  every  harp  !  — and  what  intense  and  uninter- 
rupted worship  rises  from  all  the  happy  and  pure 
''  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect !" 

The  matter  of  celestial  praises  explains  the  reason 
of  all  this  multitudinous  flow  of  love  and  song  towards 
the  Lamb  that  sits  upon  the  throne  :  "  Thou  art 
worthy  to  take  the  book,  and  to  open  the  seals  thereof: 
for  thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by 
thy  blood  out  of  every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people, 
and  nation  ;  and  hast  made  us  unto  our  God  kings 
and  priests :  and  we  shall  reign  on  the  earth."  On 
the  earth  they  fled  to  him  to  hide  them  in  his  grace. 
In  heaven  they  fly  to  him  to  share  with  him  his  glory ; 
and  no  sooner  are  they  there,  than  he  places  them  all 


262  MOUNT    TABOR. 

on  the  same  throne  with  himself.  There  are  four  and 
twenty  seats  upon  that  throne,  capable  of  accommodat- 
ing the  whole  ransomed  of  the  Lord,  and  they  shall 
be  all  occupied.  But  who  are  these  bright  and  beauti- 
ful beings  sitting  on  the  circles  beyond,  singing  as 
loudly  as  the  others,  but  veiling  their  faces  with  their 
wmgs  ?  These  are  the  angels,  who  are  also  attracted 
by  their  Lord's  glory  to  their  Lord's  throne,  but  who 
claim  no  superior  right  over  these  brethren  who  are  ar- 
rayed in  the  white  robes  which  are  washed  in  his  blood. 
They  are  not  jealous  nor  envious,  though  a  second 
place  is  assigned  them  ;  and  though  they  are  silent 
while  the  song  itself  is  sung,  they  join — ^they  all  join 
— in  the  grand  chorus,  "Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom, 
and  strength,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  blessing  I" 

Thus  to  Jesus  do  angelic  and  glorified  human  intel- 
ligences all  flock,  in  admiring  and  adoring  multitudes. 
They  are  ever  beside  him,  and  he  is  as  the  sun  in  the 
midst  of  them,  every  one  of  them  reflecting  the  glory 
that  radiates  from  his  divine  person.  What  a  sub- 
lime region,  then,  must  that  be  which  has  the  "  image 
of  the  invisible  God "  for  its  centre,  the  whole  of  these 
pure  and  happy  saints  whom  he  has  redeemed,  for  its 
diverging  radii,  and  for  its  grand  circumference  the 
angelic  orders !  What  a  combination  of  all  that  is 
godlike  in  wisdom,  and  holiness,  and  joy!  What  a 
concentration  of  the  essentials  of  that  glory  which  is 
poured  from  the  throne  of  the  Eternal  throughout  all 
the  wide  range  of  his  marvellous  works!  Blessed 
spot  in  creation's  loftiest  scale !  when  shall  we  bo 
drawn  up  to  thy  light  ?  when  shall  we  be  embosomed 
in  thy  bliss  ?  O,  when  shall  we  hide  in  thy  splendors 
our  own  divinely  reflected,  but  minor  effulgences? 
Haste,   happy  period !    and,   meanwhile,  let  us  wait 


MOUNT    TABOR.  263 

without  murmuring  his  coming  who  has  said,  for  our 
comfort,  "  Behold,  I  come  quickly." 

From  these  cheering  truths  we  may  gather,  that  the 
heavenly  inhabitants  recognize  and  are  acquainted 
with  one  another.  If  they  were  to  live  apart,  and  were 
never  to  meet,  it  might  not  be  so ;  but  as  they  are 
all  irresistibly  attracted  to  the  Redeemer,  and  dwell 
in  his  immediate  presence,  they  necessarily  associate, 
and  no  doubt  learn  from  his  lips  what  is  interesting 
in  their  several  histories.  On  Tabor  there  was  instant 
recognition,  on  the  part  of  the  three  disciples,  of  Moses 
and  Elias ;  and  if  in  their  mortal  tabernacle  they 
were  enabled  to  make  this  discovery,  surely,  when  we 
enter  heaven  with  our  faculties  of  discernment  per- 
fected, we  shall  be  at  no  loss  to  know  those  especially 
in  whom  we  feel  the  deepest  interest.  We  shall  find 
oar  way,  first  of  all,  immediately  to  the  Saviour. 
Our  natural  affections  at  present  are  not  safe  judges 
as  to  what  will  be  our  first  and  strongest  desire  when 
we  die.  The  inconsolable  Rachel  may  think  that 
when  she  has  Paradise  opened  to  her  view,  the  first 
object  she  will  look  for  will  be  her  darling  child ;  and 
so  may  we  all  conclude  concerning  those  dear  relatives 
who  long  ago  bade  us  farewell.  But  such  ideas,  how- 
ever natural,  are  founded  on  a  misconception,  We 
have  seen  our  children,  our  parents,  and  our  friends, 
and  we  think  most  readily  of  them  in  our  realizations 
of  future  reunions.  But,  then,  we  have  not  as  yet 
seen  the  Redeemer  himself,  consequently  we  have  no 
idea  of  the  exceeding  fascinations  of  his  beauty.  The 
moment  he  is  beheld,  every  other  desire  and  every 
other  recollection  will  be  absorbed  in  the  enraptured 
vision  of  him,  to  whom  we  shall  then  feel  ourselves 
indebted  for  all  the  glory  that  surrounds  us.  But 
though  it  be  so,  there  will  also  be  the  gratification  of 


264  MOUNT    TABOR. 

our  perfected  natural  desires.  It  will  be,  indeed,  the 
delight  of  the  Saviour  himself  to  bring  those  together 
in  heaven  vi^ho  were  dear  to  one  another  on  earth.  He 
will  not,  on  that  account,  fear  any  abatement  of  their 
supreme  love  for  him.  He  will  know  that  this  kind- 
ness on  his  part  must  the  more  increase  it. 

That  the  saints  shall  know  one  another  in  heaven, 
is  an  idea  favored  by  the  passage  under  review.  Our 
Lord's  own  words,  too,  corroborate  it :  "  And  they 
shall  come  from  the  east,  and  from  the  west,  and  from 
the  north,  and  from  the  south,  and  shall  sit  down  wifh 
Abraham,  with  Isaac,  and  with  Jacob,  in  the  king- 
dom of  heaven."  In  this  scripture  these  three  are 
mentioned,  to  intimate  that  they  will  be  known  as 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  heaven.  But  why  these 
three  alone  ?  Does  not  the  same  reason  exist  for  the 
recognition  of  other  illustrious  servants  of  God  ?  And 
if  it  be  made  out  that  certain  of  the  saints  are  to  be 
known,  why  may  we  not  conclude  that  the  power  of 
personal  recognition  will  be  universal  ?  We  are  told, 
besides,  that  the  twelve  apostles  will  be  recognized  sit- 
ting on  their  twelve  thrones,  and  will  receive  the  glory 
due  to  their  rank,  and  their  services  in  the  church. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  there  will  be  de- 
grees of  glory  in  heaven,  and  that  they  who  have  con- 
verted many  souls  to  God  will  have  greater  honor  paid 
to  them,  and  will  be  stationed  as  brighter  stars  in  the 
celestial  galaxy.  This  arrangement,  however,  does 
not  interfere  with  the  privilege  which  all  will  enjoy  in 
common,  of  recommencing  a  communion  of  love  and 
friendship  which  was  begun  on  earth,  and  interrupted 
for  a  season  at  death — not  that  we  shall  there  be  in 
every  sense  as  to  relationship  as  we  are  here ;  for  it  is 
probable  that  family  bonds  may  not  be  felt  there  as 
they  are  at  present.     There  may  be  nothing  in  the 


MOUNT    TABOR.  265 

parent,  in  the  child,  in  the  husband,  or  in  the  wife, 
exactly  to  correspond  with  those  sympathies  that  co- 
exist in  such  relationships  now.  Still  there  is  much 
to  support  the  idea  that  all  the  pure  affections  of  our 
nature,  which  here  underwent  the  process  of  sanctifi- 
cation,  will  be  consecutively  exercised  in  heaven  upon 
the  same  objects  that  attracted  them  on  earth.  The 
parental  affections,  for  instance,  are  not  economical 
simply,  they  are  natural ;  they  are  bound  up  in  our 
human  constitution ;  they  are  essential  to  it ;  and  as 
these  affections  would  have  been  exercised  perpetually, 
had  Adam  and  Eve  kept  their  first  estate,  we  may 
argue,  that  they  will,  in  some  measure,  find  vent 
when  we  are  in  possession  of  Paradise  restored.  There 
will,  certainly,  be  some  very  important  and  extensive 
differences  ;  but  many  of  the  original  elements  of  our 
natural  faculties  in  such  connections,  will  partake  of 
no  other  change  than  what  is  indispensable  from  per- 
fection in  holiness. 

12 


MOUNT    OLIVET, 


THE    AGONY   OF   THE   REDEEMER. 


Though  the  life  of  Christ  maintained  what  may 
De  termed  (only,  however,  when  compared  with  itself) 
a  usual  or  ordinary  course,  the  devout  student  dis- 
covers in  it  several  extraordinary,  or,  as  they  may  be 
considered,  mystical  passages.  In  these,  there  is  a 
manifest  introduction  or  conjunction  of  supernatural 
agencies,  which  do  not  appear  in  its  common  routine. 
It  is  observable  also,  that  in  these  passages  there  is  a 
very  striking  juxtaposition  of  painful  and  humiliating 
with  consoling  and  glorifying  circumstances  ;  a  sort 
of  antithesis  of  events  dark  and  appalling  with  others 
transcendently  luminous  and  sublime.  For  example, 
his  baptism,  wherein  we  behold  the  heavens  opened, 
and  the  Spirit  descending  upon  him,  and  where  the 
voice  from  "  the  excellent  glory"  proclaims  him  to  be 
the  Son  of  God,  is  immediately  conjoined  with  his 
temptation  in  the  wilderness,  where  the  spirit  of  dark- 
ness assails  and  torments  him.  On  Tabor,  we  behold 
him  in  all  the  splendors  of  transfiguration ;  now  we 
are  to  witness  him  in  the  agony  and  blood  of  Gethse- 
piane  ;  and  at  last  the  tortures  and  death  of  Calvary 
^re  exchanged  for  the  celestial  concomitants  of  his  as- 


MOUNT   OLIVET.  267 

cension  into  heaven.  In  these  three  extraordinary 
combinations  of  light  and  darkness,  humiliation  and 
exaltation,  weakness  and  strength,  apparent  desertion 
and  supernatural  acknowledgment,  we  find  the  day 
of  his  adversity  set  over  against  the  day  of  his  pros- 
perity. The  one,  inclusive  of  the  dismal  class  of 
events,  indicates  his  mediatorial  submissiveness ;  and 
the  other,  unveiling  his  divine  glory,  demonstrates  the 
eternal  Father's  love  to  and  complacency  in  him,  to- 
gether with  his  faithfulness  to  those  covenant  engage- 
ments, on  the  ground  of  which  that  Son  undertook 
thus  to  become  the  surety  of  sinners.  The  transfigu- 
ration and  agony  of  Christ,  evidently  constituting  one 
of  those  couplets  to  which  we  have  referred,  ought  to 
be  considered  consecutively.  Our  Lord  himself  seems 
to  have  made  this  conjunction  of  them  in  his  own 
mmd,  from  the  selection  of  the  same  witnesses  to 
both  events.  Having,  then,  been  with  him  on  Ta- 
bor, let  us  now  go  forth  with  the  Man  of  sorrows  to 
Olivet. 


PART  I. 

PRECURSORS    OF    THE    AGONY. 

THE  UPPER  ROOM THE  LORD's  SUPPER KEDRON VALLEY 

OF  JEHOSHAPHAT OLIVET GETHSEMANE. 

Our  blessed  Lord  had  entered  Jerusalem  on  the 
afternoon  preceding  his  crucifixion  with  his  disciples. 
In  an  upper  room  he  had  observed  the  feast  of  the 
Passover.     In  the  act  of  observing  he  had  authorita- 


268  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

tively  alluded  it,  and  substituted  the  Lord's  Supper — 
the  design  of  which  was  to  memorialize  his  sacrifice 
of  atonement,  till  he  should  come  the  second  time,  to 
judge  the  world.  He  had  indicated,  at  the  same  time, 
that  one  of  his  disciples  should  betray  him ;  and, 
nothing  daunted,  the  traitor  had  already  left  the  room 
to  perpetrate  his  execrable  purpose.  Immediately 
after  supper,  observing  the  grief  of  the  eleven,  because 
of  his  plain  intimations  that  he  would  ere  long  be 
taken  from  them,  he  delivered  his  farewell  consola- 
tions, as  we  have  them  recorded  in  those  precious 
chapters,  the  fourteenth,  fifteenth,  and  sixteenth  of  the 
Gospel  according  to  John.  When  he  had  finished  this 
exquisitely  beautiful  address,  he  offered  up  the  interces- 
sory prayer  which  we  find  in  the  seventeenth  chapter ; 
and  having,  in  conclusion,  engaged  with  the  disciples 
in  singing  an  hymn,  "  they  went  out  unto  the  mount 
of  Olives." 

How  astonishing  is  all  this  !  It  was  the  last  night 
he  was  to  spend  with  them  on  earth.  He  was  on  the 
very  threshold  of  tremendously  important  and  agoniz- 
ing work.  Already  "  the  pains  of  hell  had  gat  hold" 
of  him  ;  the  deadly  shades  of  Gethsemane  and  Cal- 
vary were  gathering  thick  and  fast  around  his  amiable 
soul.  That  law,  that  good  and  holy  law  of  God  which 
he  never  had  broken,  whose  promulgation  from  Sinai 
had  been  accompanied  with  such  astonishing  signals 
of  the  majesty  of  the  Lawgiver,  was  hastening  to  visit 
upon  him,  as  the  sinner's  surety,  its  horrible  penalty. 
Jehovah  himself  was  coming !  The  Saviour  heard  his 
voice  in  the  garden,  not  as  the  guilty  first  Adam  did, 
hiding  himself  among  the  bowers  of  Eden,  but  with 
solemn  purpose  to  go  forth  and  meet  him  there,  with 
all  the  consequences  of  such  an  interview  clearly  ap- 
prehended,    Yet  here,  amid  his  chosen  witnesses,  is 


MOUNT   OLIVET.  269 

he  calmly  engaged  in  comforting  their  hearts,  and  in 
inspiriting  them  with  the  exercises  of  devotion.  Surely 
to  the  work  he  now  ''  sets  his  face  like  a  flint."  His 
*'  love  is  strong  as  death."  ''  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul !" 

Having  descended  the  stairs  of  the  house  where  he 
had  been  thus  engaged,  he  took  the  road  that  led  from 
the  city  to  the  mount  of  Olives.  The  eleven  followed 
him.  The  sun  by  this  time  must  have  gone  down 
over  the  hills  of  Judea ;  its  last  tints  were  gilding  the 
towers  of  the  city  of  David,  and  the  stu-  and  hum  of 
Jerusalem  might  be  gradually  dying  away.  On  leav- 
ing the  city,  they  came  to  the  brook  Kedron,  which 
they  must  cross.  In  the  hundred  and  tenth  psalm, 
which  is  Messianic,  it  is  predicted  of  the  Saviour, 
that  ''  he  shall  drink  of  the  brook  in  the  way ;  there- 
fore shall  he  lift  up  the  head."  These  words  primarily 
refer  to  David's  passage  over  Kedron,  when,  at  the 
time  of  the  rebellion  of  Absalom,  "  he  went  up  by  the 
ascent  of  mount  Olivet,  and  wept  as  he  went  up,  and 
had  his  head  covered."  It  is  therefore  interesting  now 
to  witness  David's  Lord  crossing  the  same  stream,  and 
going  up  the  same  eminence,  full  also  of  grief.  In 
applying  the  last  verse  of  this  psalm  to  Christ,  we  learn 
his  inflexible  purpose,  at  all  risks,  to  allow  ''  the  things 
concerning  him  to  have  an  end."  We  are  not  told 
whether,  like  his  illustrious  type,  Jesus  did  at  this 
time  refresh  himself  from  the  brook  ;  still,  the  coinci- 
dence is  remarkable.  Having  then  traversed  the  dark 
and  shady  vale,  by  some  understood  to  be  the  valley 
of  Jehoshaphat,  through  which  this  stream  ran,  they 
held  on  their  way  to  Olivet.  The  dismal  appearance 
of  the  valley  was  no  doubt  partially  relieved  by  the 
gentle  light  of  the  harvest  moon — the  passover  being 
always  celebrated  when  the  moon  was  at  her  full. 


270  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

Before  they  reached  the  garden,  which  occupied  part 
of  the  level  space  between  Kedron  and  the  foot  of  the 
mount,  our  Lord  entered  into  conversation  with  his 
disciples.  He  intimated  to  them  that  they  would  all 
forsake  him ;  but,  with  amazing  generosity  and  con- 
descension, trysted  them  to  meet  with  him  after  his 
resurrection,  naming  the  place  where  the  reunion 
should  be  effected.  "  After  I  am  risen  again,"  he 
said,  *'  I  will  go  before  you  into  Galilee." 

Shortly  after  this,  they  arrived  at  Gethsemane. 
And  here  let  us  pause  to  admire  and  praise  him. 
Often  had  he  traversed  this  same  road,  sometimes 
alone,  and  at  others,  as  now,  with  his  disciples.  The 
evangelist  tells  us  that  "  it  was  his  custom  to  resort 
thither"  with  them,  that  he  might  recruit  his  spirit  in 
meditation  and  prayer  after  the  fatigue  of  a  day  de- 
voted to  the  work  which  his  Father  had  given  him  to 
do.  On  all  former  occasions,  however,  he  had  imme- 
diately before  his  mind  refreshing  communion  with 
that  Father,  whose  smiles  induced  him  to  leave  the 
infidel  throng  of  the  city,  to  luxuriate  for  a  season  in 
the  joys  of  their  reciprocal  love.  But  now  had  arrived 
"  the  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness."  The  road  is 
the  same.  Kedron's  brook,  swelled  by  the  melting  of 
the  mountain  snows,  as  before,  gurgles,  and  foams, 
and  hurries  down  its  troubled  stream.  The  moon 
diffuses,  as  of  old,  her  silver  light  over  the  vale,  and 
brings  out  in  mild  relief  the  undulating  hills,  where 
humble  shepherds  nightly  watch  their  flocks;  the 
cedar  trees  rear  their  laden  branches  to  the  sky ;  the 
lights  in  the  habitations  of  Zion  are  receding  froni  their 
view,  and  the  scene  of  agony  is  at  hand.  The  man 
Christ  Jesus  is  also  the  same,  though  not  the  same  the 
exercises  before  him.  He  goes  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaugh- 
ter ;  and  if  he  opens  his  mouth,  it  is  not  to  speak  of 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  271 

escape,  not  to  bargain  for  the  aid  of  his  disciples,  not 
to  complain  of  the  treatment  he  was  soon  to  receive 
from  them,  but  to  warn,  encourage,  and  comfort  them, 
when  they  should  be  scattered  as  sheep  without  a 
shepherd. 

What  fortitude  is  this !  He  might  have  remained 
in  the  city ;  he  needs  not  choose  the  resort  of  which 
Judas  knew.  His  life  is  his  own,  and  he  has  power 
to  keep  it,  as  well  as  to  lay  it  down ;  but  onward  he 
moves.  He  has  "  drunk  of  the  brook  by  the  way, 
and  therefore  shall  he  lift  up  the  head."  All  this  he 
did  freely,  all  voluntarily.  He  saw  the  dismal  end 
from  the  beginning.  It  was  a  way  of  his  own  seek- 
ing; and  perhaps  it  was  to  familiarize  his  mind  with 
the  locality,  and  to  embolden  him  for  the  appalling 
scenes  of  this  night,  that  to  this  garden  he  so  often 
retreated  for  devotion.  Never,  we  believe,  for  one 
wakeful  moment,  did  he  hide  this  agony  from  his 
mind.  *'  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with ;  and 
how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished !"  Here 
Jesus  was  "  more  than  a  mere  martyr ;"  for  here, 
most  composedly,  he  goes  up  to  the  endurance  of  suf- 
ferings, which  impart,  by  comparison,  insignificance 
to  all  the  passion  of  which  man  can  be  the  victim. 
All  this  was  self-imposed ;  absolutely  he  needed  it  not, 
nor  his  Father,  nor  the  law.  He,  and  the  Father,  and 
the  law,  m.ight  have  been  all  glorified  in  the  everlast- 
ing punishment  of  sin ;  but,  that  the  sinner  might  be 
saved,  he  must  needs  expose  himself  to  the  penalty  of 
that  law,  and  the  righteous  anger  of  that  Father. 

The  mount  of  Olives,  to  which  he  thus  wended  his 
way,  lies  immediately  to  the  east  of  Jerusalem.  It 
consists  of  a  range  of  four  mountains,  with  summits 
of  unequal  altitude.  The  loftiest  of  these  rises  from 
the  scene  of  our  Saviour's  agony,  the  garden  of  Geth- 


272  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

semane ;  and,  whether  correct  or  not,  is  the  one  from 
which  it  is  supposed  he  also  ascended  to  glory.  We 
are  told,  that  about  half  way  up  is  a  ruined  monas- 
tery, built  on  the  spot  where  Jesus  sat  and  wept  over 
the  city.  It  seems  that  the  olive  still  grows  there, 
and  as  spontaneously  yields  its  fruit  as  in  the  days  of 
David  and  our  Lord.  The  view  from  the  summit  is 
said  to  be  very  grand,  combining  more  interesting  ob- 
jects than  any  in  the  world  :  the  valley  of  Jehoshaphat, 
the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  the 
plains  of  Jericho,  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  and  the 
Dead  Sea.  There  is  on  the  top  a  wretched  village, 
inhabited  by  Arabs;  and  in  the  centre  of  this  is 
erected  a  small  octagonal  building,  marking  the  spot 
from  which  our  Lord  actually  arose  into  heaven.  The 
monks  say  that  the  print  of  his  foot  is  still  to  be  seen. 
This  print  is  in  the  rock,  enclosed  by  an  oblong  border 
of  marble ;  and  pilgrims  may  at  any  time  be  seen 
taking  wax  impressions  of  the  holy  footstep.  But  all 
such  superstitious  curiosities  must  give  way  to  our 
solemn  review  of  the  mystery  of  Gethsemane,  where 
the  agony  was  endured.* 

Gethsemane  literally  signifies  "  oil-press,"  or  "  the 
valley  of  fatness;"  and  such,  some  think,  was  the 
name  given  to  a  garden  in  that  locality,  belonging  to  a 
farmer,  who  had  allowed  the  Saviour  and  his  disciples 
the  privilege  of  stepping  aside  into  it,  as  they  passed 
and  repassed  from  Jerusalem  and  the  village  of  Beth- 
any. This  name  was  given  to  the  garden  because  of 
its  abundant  fertility.  It  is  conjectured  that  it  lay 
between  two  of  those  hills  referred  to  as  constituting 
the  range  called  the  mount  of  Olives.  The  place 
where  it  is  thought  the  agony  was  suffered  is  still 
shown  to   modern  travellers,  who  tell  us  that  it  is 

♦  Matt.  xxvi.  36— 4G;  Luke  xxii.  39— IG. 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  273 

about  fifty  paces  square,  and  enclosed  by  a  wall  of  no 
great  height,  formed  of  rough  loose  stones.  "  Eight 
very  ancient  trees  now  occupy  this  enclosure,  some  of 
which  are  of  very  large  size,  and  all  exhibit  symptoms 
of  decay,  indicative  of  their  great  age.  The  garden  is 
the  property  of  one  of  the  monastic  establishments, 
and  much  care  is  taken  to  preserve  the  old  trees  from 
destruction." 

So  soon,  then,  as  our  Lord  and  his  disciples  arrived 
at  this  garden,  he  selected  three  of  them  to  accompany 
him  within  the  walls.  The  other  eight  remained  out- 
side. He  said  to  them,  ''  Sit  ye  here,  while  I  go  and 
pray  yonder."  He  did  not  conceal  from  them  what  he 
was  about  to  do,  though  he  did  not  choose  that  they 
should  all  witness  what  he  was  about  to  suffer.  Three 
of  them  only  were  qualified  for  such  a  spectacle. 
These  were  Peter,  James,  and  John.  Had  the  rest 
been  admitted,  they  might  have  taken  offence,  and 
formed  suspicions  of  the  Sonship  and  Messiahship  of 
Jesus  ;  hence  the  kindness,  as  well  as  wisdom,  of  keep- 
ing them  on  the  outside.  The  favored  three,  however, 
could  be  trusted.  They  had  seen  him  transfigured, 
and  might  therefore  be  favored  with  the  more  awful 
sight  of  him  agonized.  Even  from  them,  however, 
a  portion  of  this  night's  tragedy  was  concealed,  for  we 
are  told  that  "  he  withdrew  from  them  about  a  stone's 
cast."  This  distance,  considering  that  it  was  night, 
and  that  he  was  concealed  among  the  thick  foliage  of 
the  garden,  formed  a  complete  separation  between  him 
and  them.  But  they  were  permitted  to  see  enough 
to  bear  their  personal  testimony  to  an  event  in  which 
the  church  of  God  has  ever  taken  a  most  profound 
interest.  Let  us  now  shortly  review  the  mystery  of 
the  agony  itself. 


274  MOUNT    OLIVET. 


PART   II. 

THE  NATURE  AND  CONCOMITANTS  OP  THE 
AGONY. 

SUPERNATURAL SPIRITUAL SPECIAL CONTINUED THE 

PRAYER THE  CUP THE  BLOODY  SWEAT THE  ANGEL. 

The  earliest  indication  of  the  agony  is  thus  described 
by  the  evangelist:  "He  began  to  be  sorrowful,  and 
very  heavy;"  or,  as  it  has  been  rendered,  "he  began 
to  be  in  great  dejection,  amazement,  and  anguish  of 
mind  ;"  which  may  signify  that,  at  this  moment,  his 
mind  was  "  penetrated  with  the  most  lively  and  press- 
ing sorrow,  a  sorrow  having  the  most  shocking  mix- 
ture of  terror  and  amazement,  which  broke  in  upon 
him  from  every  side  with  such  violence  that,  humanly 
speaking,  escape  from  it  was  impossible."  Dr.  More 
truly  observes,  "  that  Christ's  continued  resolution  in 
the  midst  of  these  agonies  and  supernatural  horrors, 
was  the  most  heroic  that  can  be  imagined,  and  far 
superior  to  valor  in  single  combat ;  where,  in  the  one 
case,  the  spirit  is  raised  by  natural  indignation,  and  in 
the  other,  by  the  pomp  of  war,  the  sound  of  martial 
music,  and  the  example  of  fellow-soldiers." 

Before  retiring,  that  he  might  be  alone  during  the 
severest  pressure  of  this  conflict,  he  uttered  these  af- 
fecting words  in  the  hearing  of  his  three  witnesses ; 
"  My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death." 
This  language  is  generally  expressive  of  the  nature  of 
his  agony,  and  more  particularly  of  what  it  shortly 
afterwards  became,  when  he  was  alone.  It  was  then 
intensely  bitter,  even  as  the  pains  of  death ;  and  ex» 
tensively  bitter,  as  reaching  up  to  the  very  article  of 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  275 

his  death.  Of  what  nature,  then,  was  this  agony  of 
the  blessed  Jesus  ? 

His  agony  was  supernatural. — There  was  no  nat- 
ural cause  to  which  it  could  be  traced.  For  all  that 
the  eye  of  sense  could  discern,  there  was  no  such 
change  in  the  mere  circumstances  of  the  Saviour  as 
to  warrant  the  use  of  such  language.  The  disciples 
had  often  seen  him  in  circumstances  far  more  oppres- 
sive, far  more  likely  to  cast  him  down,  and  draw  from 
him  the  most  mournful  lamentations,  and  yet  he  had 
never  till  now  so  expressed  himself.  Besides,  con- 
sidering his  character  for  fortitude,  patience,  and 
magnanimity  in  suffering,  we  are  shut  up  to  the 
conclusion,  that  as  on  former  occasions  he  had  not 
given  utterance  to  his  spiritual  distresses,  so,  on  the 
present  one,  the  cause  should  be  regarded  as  most  ex- 
traordinary— as,  indeed,  supernatural.  Had  it  been 
an  ordinary  or  natural  cause,  he  would  now,  as  for- 
merly, have  possessed  his  soul  in  patience  and  tran- 
quillity. 

His  agony  was  spiritual. — This  idea  corroborates 
the  former.  It  was  sorrow  in  the  mind  or  soul,  and 
it  was  there  alone,  altogether  exclusive  of  any  cor- 
poreal pain-  "  My  soul,"  said  he, ''  is  sorrowful."  No 
doubt,  by  the  day's  labors,  and,  as  we  may  conjecture, 
from  the  very  chilliness  of  the  evening,  his  body  might 
be  sensible  of  discomfort ;  but  it  is  not  of  the  body  he 
speaks.  All  mere  bodily  torture  he  would  have  borne 
without  a  murmur,  as  the  sequel  proved ;  but  it  was 
internal  anguish  ;  it  was  the  tossing  into  fearful  tem- 
pest of  every  faculty  of  his  mighty  intellect ;  it  was 
the  wringing  with  grief  of  every  affection  of  his  ami- 
able heart ;  it  was  the  thorough  penetration  of  heart 
and  soul  and  mind  with  the  barbed  arrows  of  an 
agony,  which,  peradventure,  not  even  upon  Calvary 


276  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

was  surpassed  in  intensity  and  amount.  "  It  was  not," 
as  a  pious  prelate  has  observed,  "it  was  not  the  body- 
that  suffered  now ;  the  pain  of  body  is  but  as  the  body 
of  pain ;  the  anguish  of  the  soul  is  as  the  soul  of  an- 
guish." 

His  agony  was  special. — For  all  that  we  can  tell, 
he  may  have  had  other  seasons  wherein  his  soul  had 
sorrow  of  a  similar  kind,  and  of  supernatural  origin. 
But  in  this  garden  there  was  a  speciality  about  it, 
both  as  to  kind  and  degree.  He  had  been  a  man  of 
sorrows  all  along.  He  was  the  man  of  sorrows  here 
and  now.  Here  and  now  he  was  as  it  were  sorrow  it- 
self; a  living  impersonation  of  grief — not  the  mere 
chalice  into  which  the  wormwood  might  be  put ;  not 
the  mere  vessel  against  which  angry  waters  might  be 
dashed ;  not  the  martyr  upon  whom  hellish  ingenuity 
might  expend  its  roughest  tortures — ^but  an  actual,  a 
living,  an  intelligent,  and,  however  mysterious,  an  in- 
nocent embodiment  of  all  that  is  agonizing  within  the 
compass  of  intellectual  or  spiritual  passion.  We  are 
told  that  the  tribulations  of  the  righteous  are  many  ; 
but  we  are  also  told  that  their  consolations  abound. 
Their  peaceful  spirits  can  look  out  upon  the  heaving 
earth  and  the  roaring  waters,  assured  that  their  God 
will  be  to  them  a  refuge  from  every  storm.  Hence, 
secure  within  the  bosom  of  divine  benevolence,  they  can 
sing  with  joy,  while  all  nature  may  be  groaning  with 
distress.  In  this  agony  of  our  Lord,  however,  there 
were  shaking,  swelling,  and  astounding  elements,  with- 
out one  perceptible  admixture  of  comfort;  and  this 
gave  to  it  a  speciality.  Whatever  it  was,  there  was 
certainly  at  this  hour  cast  upon  him  a  concentration 
of  bitterness,  hitherto  unparalleled,  even  in  his  life, 
and  which,  we  believe,  will  remain  an  eternal  secret 
in  his  own  breast. 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  2i7 

His  agony  was  prolonged. — His  former  griefs  had 
been  intermittent.  Moments  if  not  hours  of  ease  had 
been  allowed  to  him  from  the  strife  of  tongues,  and  the 
malignities  of  men  and  devils.  Though  sometimes  he 
had  not  where  to  lay  his  head,  at  others  he  found  shel- 
ter and  repose  in  Bethany.  But  in  this  garden,  an 
agony  commenced  which  lasted  on,  as  some  read  the 
passage,  to  the  very  hour  of  his  decease.  His  soul 
was  "  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  up  to  death,"  or,  up 
to  the  time  of  death.  There  is  some  reason  to  believe 
that  from  this  moment  he  had  to  endure  the  hiding  of 
his  Father's  face,  and  that  the  terrific  struggle  that 
followed  upon  this,  lasted  till  he  gave  up  the  ghost. 
If  so,  what  a  Saviour  has  man  !  We  are  apt  to  think 
that  the  passion  of  Christ  reached  its  acme  just  as  he 
was  about  to  expire,  and  that  it  was  not  till  then  that 
his  Father  forsook  him  ;  and  that  then,  so  horrible  to 
him  was  this  element  in  the  cup,  he  dismissed  his 
spirit  to  seek  and  find  that  Father,  again  to  rest  under 
the  shadow  of  his  wings.  But  if  we  are  justified  in 
the  view  referred  to,  that  he  suffered  the  forsaking  of 
his  Father  from  Gethsemane  onwards  to  Calvary,  how 
poor  and  inadequate  are  our  conceptions  of  his  patience, 
courage,  and  love  !  During  the  intervening  hours  of 
such  suffering  he  opened  not  his  mouth  to  complain, 
till  at  length,  as  if  incapable  to  support  it  any  longer 
in  silence,  he  astonished  the  heavens  and  the  earth 
with  the  memorable  exclamation,  "  My  God,  my  God, 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?" 

In  the  narration  of  this  scene  there  is  one  most  re- 
markable passage.  We  are  told  that,  after  cautioning 
the  three  disciples  that  they  were  not  to  follow  him, 
but  to  continue  in  \^gilance  and  prayer,  ''  he  went 
forward  a  little,  and  was  withdrawn  from  them  about 
a  stone's  cast,  and  kneeled  down,  and  fell  upon  his 


278  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

face  on  the  gi'ound,  and  prayed  that  if  it  were  possi- 
ble the  hour  might  pass  from  him.  And  he  said, 
Abba,  Father,  all  things  are  possible  unto  thee.  O 
my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  take  away  this  cup,  and 
let  it  pass  from  me  :  nevertheless,  not  what  I  will,  but 
what  thou  wilt."  It  is  not  easy  to  give  a  satisfactory 
explanation  of  these  mysterious  words.  It  is  evident 
that  such  was  now  his  sense  of  that  sorrow  which  was 
to  be  unto  death,  that  it  was  proper  that  no  human 
eye  should  witness  it,  and  that  he  must  pray  in  order 
to  his  bearing  it.  First  of  all,  it  appeared  to  be  neces- 
sary that  he  should  be  alone,  hence  he  was  withdrawn 
from  the  three.  Had  they  seen  their  Lord  prostrated 
on  the  earth,  had  they  heard  such  prayers  as  he  then 
offered  up,  ''  with  strong  crying  and  tears,"  they  might 
have  fled  from  the  spot,  and  the  church  must  then  have 
been  deprived  of  their  testimony  as  eye  and  ear  wit- 
nesses. Perhaps  their  sleeping  during  the  agony  was 
permitted,  that  they  might  not  hear  his  groans,  nor  be 
prompted,  by  curiosity  or  afTection,  to  pry  into  the 
scene.  A  portion  of  the  sorrow  they  must  have  seen, 
and  a  part  of  the  prayers  they  must  have  heard  ;  but 
the  bulk  of  the  agony,  both  in  its  conflict  and  cries, 
was  by  them  unobserved.  In  addition  to  this,  it  may 
be  noticed,  that  his  retirement  was  proper,  that  he 
might  be  strengthened  to  sufTer  by  fervent  prayer. 
But  what  can  be  said  of  that  prayer ;  for  we  are  told 
that  at  three  several  times  he  offered  it  up,  and  pressed 
it  upon  God?  "  Extreme  anguish,"  it  has  been  said, 
*'  naturally  produces  recurrence  to  the  one  theme  which 
gives  it  being  and  intensity ;"  and  this  repetition  of 
Christ's  prayer  in  Gethsemane  has  been  thus  ac- 
counted for. 

The  emphasis  which  our  Lord  places  upon  "  this 
cup,"  calls  for  particular  notice.     It  is  manifest  that  it 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  279 

can  refer  only  to  a  certain  portion  of  the  sufferings, 
which  he  was  now,  and  up  to  the  hour  of  death,  to 
endure.  We  cannot  suppose  that  in  so  expressing 
himself  he  petitioned  for  entire  relief  from  the  sacrifice 
of  atonement  to  which  he  had  been  devoted.  "A  cup 
is  a  figure  of  speech,  which  denotes  not  the  whole,  but 
only  a  limited  quantity  of  the  liquor  which  it  may 
contain ;  as  it  is  the  custom  of  the  father  of  a  family, 
or  master  of  a  feast,  to  send  to  his  children  or  guests 
a  cup  only  of  such  liquor  as  he  designed  for  them, 
but  not  the  entire  quantity."  Dr.  Doddridge  upon  this 
passage  remarks :  "To  suppose  that  our  Lord  here 
prays  for  entire  relief,  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  that 
steady  constancy  he  always  showed,  and  with  that 
lively  turn  with  which  he  seems  to  disoAvn  such  a 
prayer.  It  appears  much  safer  to  expound  it  as  Sir 
Matthew  Hale  does,  as  relating  to  the  terror  and 
severity  of  the  combat  in  which  he  was  now  actually 
engaged. 

Now,  in  thus  praying  for  a  mere  abatement  of  some 
of  the  pangs  of  that  dark  hour,  there  is  nothing 
whatever  derogatory  to  his  character.  He  was  man 
as  well  as  God  ;  and  if  he  had  a  will  peculiar  to 
the  divine,  so  he  must  have  had  a  will  peculiar  to  the 
human  nature,  otherwise  he  could  not  have  been  a 
perfect  human  being.  "  Hereupon,"  says  the  judicious 
Hooker,  ''  the  church  hath  of  old  condemned  Mono- 
thelites  as  heretics,  for  holding  that  Christ  had  but 
one  will."  But  even  upon  this  interpretation,  we  are 
not  to  found  any  idea  that  Christ's  will  was  now  in 
opposition  to  God's,  or  that  he  would  have  preferred 
to  have  been  relieved  of  his  obligations.  As  a  man 
he  was  now  the  "distracted  subject"  of  some  most 
mysterious  conflict,  some  new  element  of  grief  was,  for 
the  first  time,  superinduced  on  his  spirit,  which   he 


280  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

.specifies  as  "  this  cup ;"  and  may  it  not  be  that  from 
this  particular  draught  he,  for  the  moment,  was  de- 
sirous to  be  saved,  and  even  that  only  if  it  were  pos- 
sible ;  that  is,  agreeable  to  the  will  of  the  Father  ? 
The  threefold  repetition  of  this  wish  indicates  the 
dreadful  nature  of  that  draught ;  and  if,  as  we  have 
hinted,  the  hiding  of  his  Father's  face  from  him  was 
the  chief  constituent  of  his  sorrow  up  to  death,  we 
may  cease  wondering  at  his  anxiety  to  have  "  that  cup" 
passed  from  him.  That  Father's  countenance  had 
from  all  eternity  been  beheld  by  him,  and  in  its  smiles 
he  had  ever  rejoiced.  That  Father's  approbation  had 
likewise  been  all  along  his  strength  and  encourage- 
ment ;  and  when  it  became  necessary  that  he  should 
see  the  veiling  of  the  one,  and  feel  the  withdrawment 
of  the  other,  a  new  and  almost  intolerable  burden  was 
imposed  upon  him.  Dr.  Bennet  here  appropriately  re- 
marks, that  this  prayer  of  Christ  "  may  convince  us 
that  his  sufferings  were  real ;  that  his  sense  of  pain 
was  exquisite ;  that  he  had  all  the  natural  aversion  to 
suffering ;  that  it  is  innocent  to  seek  exemption  from 
pain;  that  there  was  an  impossibility  of  our  being 
saved  without  the  Redeemer's  sufTerings ;  and  that 
this  cup  was  therefore  administered  to  him  by  the 
Father's  hand." 

In  the  narrative  of  these  awful  transactions,  there 
is  one  description  of  his  passion  which,  though  it  de- 
monstrates its  intensity,  wraps  up  the  entire  scene 
in  "darkness  that  may  be  felt:"  "And,  being  in  an 
agony,  he  prayed  more  earnestly :  and  his  sweat  was 
as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood  falling  down  to  the 
ground."  We  do  not  stay  to  inquire  whether  these 
were  drops  of  actual  blood,  forced  by  mental  anguish 
from  the  pores  of  his  body,  or  only  drops  of  perspira- 
tion large  and  clammy,  as  drops  of  blood  are.     By 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  281 

either  exposition,  we  are  taught  that  the  mental  and 
spiritual  exercises  of  our  Redeemer  must  at  the  time 
have  been  almost  intolerable,  and  such  as  to  drain  his 
very  bodily  structure  of  its  animal  subsistence.  We 
see  no  reason  why  it  may  not  be  explained  as  being  a 
sweat  of  actual  blood.  Such  a  phenomenon  has  been 
asserted  by  certain  writers  as  not  only  possible,  but  as 
really  to  have  taken  place.  Aristotle,  and  Diodorus 
Siculus  both  mention  bloody  sweats  as  resulting  from 
extreme  inward  anguish. 

It  seems  to  have  been  at  this  crisis  that  a  celestial 
being  appeared  on  the  spot.  "  There  appeared,"  says 
the  gospel,  "  an  angel  unto  him  from  heaven,  strength- 
ening him."  It  .is  conjectured,  and  with  some  likeli- 
hood of  accuracy,  that  this  was  Gabriel,  the  archangel. 
Jesus  had  been  indebted  to  angels  before  this.  They 
assisted  him  in  his  temptation ;  and  now  one  of  them 
comes  to  wait  upon  him  in  his  agony.  How  strange 
to  Gabriel  would  be  such  a  spectacle  !  But  with  the 
secrets  of  God  he  had  nothing  to  do,  and  he  sought 
not  to  intermeddle  here  beyond  fulfilling  his  commis- 
sion. It  has  been  supposed  that  Satan  was  in  Geth- 
semane  on  this  occasion,  making  a  last  effort  to  pre- 
vent the  accomplishment  of  ancient  prophecies.  If  so, 
here  also  was  a  good  angel  standing  by  the  side  of 
Him  of  whom  Moses,  in  the  law,  and  the  prophets 
did  write.  By  his  presence  and  support  he  carried 
Jesus  through  the  trial.  And  if  it  be  so  that  the 
bright  sun  of  God's  smile  went  down  over  Messiah's 
soul  at  this  hour,  and  left  him  under  the  thickest 
eclipse  by  which  intelligence  and  consciousness  can 
be  enveloped,  it  discovers,  after  all,  that  there  was, 
notwithstanding,  left  to  him  at  least  one  sensible 
token  of  that  Father's  complacency.  He  would  cer- 
tainly know,  that   but  for   that   Father's   mandate, 


282  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

Gabriel  would  not  have  presumed  to  appear  in  Geth- 
semane.  Behold  in  this,  O  Christian,  the  pledge  of 
thine  own  safety,  even  in  thick  spiritual  darkness  I 
If  thou  mournest  an  absent  God  ;  if  thou  seekest  for 
him  whom  thy  soul  lovest,  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left,  behind  and  before,  saying,  "  He  is  not  there  ; 
I  cannot  find  him,"  be  assured  that  thine  angel,  who 
has  the  charge  of  thee,  shall  be  sent  to  bear  thee  up  ; 
and  if  the  angel  of  God  be  near,  the  God  of  the  angel 
caimot  be  far  away. 

But  in  what  form  did  this  angel  assist  the  Saviour  ? 
It  is  said  he  was  '^strengthening  him."  The  very 
sight  of  Gabriel  would  be  strength  to  Jesus.  He 
knew  him  to  be  the  servant  of  the  most  high  God,  and 
that  he  would  not,  even  in  this  scene  of  humiliation 
and  suffering,  refuse  to  obey  the  command  given  to 
him  and  all  the  angels  at  the  birth  of  the  Messiah, 
*'  Let  all  the  angels  worship  him."  There  was,  no 
doubt,  mystic  work  on  foot,  of  which  Gabriel  knew 
nothing ;  but  his  appearance  would  assure  the  sufferer 
that  if  hell  was  in  motion,  so  also  was  heaven ;  and 
none  knew  better  than  the  Son  of  God  what  power 
even  one  good  spirit  can  wield  over  the  legions  of 
Tophet.  It  is  likely,  however,  that  this  angel  did 
more  than  console  the  spirit  of  the  agonized  man. 
That  dear  Lord,  under  the  force  of  his  passion,  was 
dashed  to  the  very  earth.  Yes,  the  marred  face  of 
Mary's  son  embraced  the  soil  of  Gethsemane  !  Three 
times  did  he  fall,  and  three  times  did  he  rise.  Three 
times  did  he  visit  his  sleeping  disciples,  and  gently 
rebuked  them,  and  three  times  did  he  stagger  back  to 
the  bloody  conflict  of  prayer.  And  why  should  we 
not  believe  that  on  all  these  occasions  this  angel 
stretched  forth  his  arms,  lifted  up  the  Man  of  sorrows 
from  the  ground,  assisted   him  in  his  goings  to  and 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  283 

from  his  disciples,  and  presented  his  sympathizing 
bosom,  on  which  the  aching  head  might  lean  ?  Was 
it  not  prophesied  of  him,  "  He  shall  give  his  angels 
charge  concerning  thee  ;  and  in  their  hands  they  shall 
bear  thee  up  ?"  But  to  the  causes  of  this  incompre- 
hensible suffering,  it  now  becomes  us  to  give  our 
attention. 


PART   III. 

THE  CAUSES  OF  THE  AGONY. 

HIS     father's    will NOT     CONSCIOUS    GUILT NOR   FEAR    OF 

SUFFERING NOR       DISTRUST       OF      GOD NOR     MISGIVINGS 

ABOUT  THE    ISSUE BUT    DUEL  WITH    SATAN EXPECTATIONS 

OF     PROPHETS THE     PENALTY     OF     LAW THE    ATONEMENT 

FOR    SIN. 

Before  looking  into  the  particulars  of  this  mysteri- 
ous subject,  it  may  be  noticed,  that  in  an  important 
sense  the  agony  of  Christ  may  be  regarded  as  one  of 
the  Father's  own  works :  ^'  It  pleased  the  Lord  to 
bruise  him ;  he  hath  put  him  to  grief."  It  was  the 
Father's  will  that  this  cup  should  not  pass  from  him 
till  he  drank  it.  Now,  God  never  works  without  a 
design,  never  even  in  creation  and  providence,  most 
certainly  never  in  redemption.  To  the  great  God, 
then,  as  the  representative  of  the  Trinity,  are  we,  in 
an  important  sense,  to  trace  the  work  done  in  this  gar- 
den ;  and  his  design  in  it,  we  must  believe,  was  sub- 
stantially the  same  with  that  which  he  kept  in  view 
in  the  entire  humiliation  of  his  Son,  namely,  the  re- 
quirement of  satisfaction  to  his  law  and  justice  from 


284  MOUNT   OLIVET. 

the  sinner's  substitute.  No  doubt  it  was  owing  to  the 
heartlessness  and  treachery  of  blood-thirsty  men  that 
the  Prince  of  life  was  delivered  up,  and  with  wicked 
hands  slain ;  so  that  secondary  causes  come  into  view 
when  accounting  for  his  sufferings  and  death ;  still, 
by  himself  we  are  taught  that,  in  allowing  these  his 
enemies  to  siege,  condemn,  and  crucify  him,  he  was 
at  the  same  time  "  going  as  it  had  been  determined, 
while  woe  was  unto  that  man  by  whom  he  was  be- 
trayed." Secondary  causes,  however,  are  not  appa- 
rent in  Gethsemane's  work.  On  Calvary  they  are 
shockingly  evident;  but  in  the  garden  he  literally 
treads  the  wine-press  of  his  Father's  wrath  "  alone." 
This  very  consideration  leads  us  up,  without  the  inter- 
vention of  a  single  instrumentality,  to  God,  the  great 
primary  cause  of  all.  Having  laid  down  this  premise, 
let  us  now  inquire  into  the  causes  of  these  agonies,  as 
recognized,  handled,  and  applied  by  the  eternal  Father, 
in  obedience  to  the  pure  dictates  of  his  sovereign  and 
infinite  love  for  sinners  of  mankind.  We  shall  first 
specify  some  things  that  were  not  causes,  in  any 
sense,  of  the  Redeemer's  agony. 

1.  The  agony  was  not  occasioned  by  any  conscious- 
ness of  guilt  on  our  Saviour's  mind.  He  was  "  holy, 
harmless,  and  undefiled,  separate  from  sinners."  His 
very  enemies  being  witnesses,  he  was  an  innocent 
and  a  just  person.  The  cause  of  suffering  to  him, 
therefore,  could  not  be  intrinsic,  but  extrinsic.  Con- 
nected with  sin,  and  associated  with  guilt,  he  certainly 
was  ;  there  being  a  sense  in  which  it  was  said,  "  he 
was  made  sin."  "  Terrible  effects  among  men,"  it 
has  been  said,  "  have  been  produced  by  the  lashes  and 
stings  of  a  guilty  conscience.;  from  this  they  have 
been  in  an  agony ;  their  souls  have  been  pierced 
through  with  many  sorrows ;  and  even  the  cold  and 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  285 

clammy  perspiration  has  bedewed  their  face,  and  moist- 
ened their  very  raiment."  But  such  was  not,  and 
could  not  be,  the  cause  of  the  bloody  sweat  of  Jesus. 

2.  The  agony  is  not  to  be  ascribed,  as  Socinians 
have   done,  to  a   natural  horror  at  and  fear  of  the 
bodily  suiTerings  which  were  before  him.     No  doubt, 
the  indignities  and  cruelties  that  he  knew  awaited 
him  within  a  few  hours,  were  fitted  to  fill  him  with 
loathing,  and  even  with  fear.     But  to  suppose  that 
this  mere  loathing  and  fear  could  occasion  such  agony, 
is  to  assign  to  him  a  lower  position  in  the  scale  of 
natural  and  moral  fortitude  than  many  of  his  own 
martyred  servants  have  honorably  occupied.     It  cer- 
tainly suits  the  godless  system  of  Socinus,  in  which 
the  doctrine  of  an  atonement  for  sin  holds  no  place, 
to  account  for  the  agony  by  ascribing  it  to  a  natural 
horror  at  suffering  and  pain ;  though,  even  upon  this 
principle  of  interpretation,  one  of  the  numerous  and 
gross  inconsistencies  of  that  system  appears.     All  that 
the   Socinian   can   see   in  or  make  of  Jesus  Christ, 
amounts  only  to  an  exemplification   in'  him  of  the 
virtues  which  dignify  and  the  graces  that  adorn  hu- 
manity ;  but  where  upon  this  showing  was  there  any 
exemplification  worthy  of  being  imitated?     To  the 
Socinian  eye  there  appears  nothing  in  Gethsemane 
but  what  tends  to  lower  the  character  of  the  sufferer. 
His  conduct  there  is  a  failure,  a  decided  failure  ;  his 
courage  gives  way  in  the  moment  and  at  the  post 
of  danger,  where  honor  is  generally  supposed  to  be  ; 
his  weakness  is  powerfully  apparent,  and  his  glory  lies 
in  the   dust.     Christ,  in    his   sufferings    and   death, 
merely  an  example  !    If  it  be  so,  so  far  as  Gethsemane 
is  concerned,  many  a  Christian  has   outstripped  his 
Lord.     Ay,  many  a  heathen  has,  with  more  heroism, 
met  and  triumphed  over  the  menaces  of  torture  and 


286  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

death.  It  has  been  suggested,  that  though  '^  death  by 
crucifixion  was  a  very  painful  one,  yet  its  shameful 
and  stigmatized  character  was  that  which  made  it  such 
an  object  of  detestation."  Death  by  burning,  or  by 
other  diabolical  methods  which  cruelty  has  devised,  is 
thought  to  be  more  intolerable  to  man ;  and  yet  to 
such-like  deaths  many  of  Jesus'  friends  have  been 
called,  and  they  have  obeyed  the  summons  without 
terror  of  body,  palor  of  countenance,  or  any  other  sem- 
blance of  mental  revulsion  or  terror.  Away,  then, 
with  this  contemptible  and  incongruous  method  of 
accounting  for  the  behavior  of  our  Lord,  as  if  he,  the 
great  example,  indeed,  to  the  world,  of  all  that  is  he- 
roic in  action  and  magnanimous  in  faith,  could  have 
faltered  or  been  affrighted  in  positions  where  ancient 
chivalry  has  crusaded  to  admiration,  and  where  the 
crown  of  Christian  martyrdom  has  been  often  won  ! 

3.  And  as  not  to  the  fears  of  mere  bodily  pain,  so 
not  to  any  distrust  of  the  support  or  faithfulness  of 
his  Father  can  this  agony  be  traced.  It  is  written, 
*'  This  man  trusted  in  God,  and  he  heard  and  delivered 
him."  "  The  angel  of  the  Lord  encamped"  round  about 
him,  as  the  pledge  of  that  Father's  pleasure  in  him, 
even  in  this  night  of  gloom  and  terror.  Never,  for 
one  moment,  did  the  Saviour's  confidence  in  the  al- 
liances of  heaven  become  weak.  In  his  duel  with 
Satan  he  had  trusted,  and  God  had  helped ;  and  now, 
in  his  agony,  he  maintained  that  trust  entire,  and 
<'  was  heard  in  that  he  feared."  In  every  stage  of  his 
mediatorial  service,  his  mind  was  sustained  by  the 
most  perfect  consciousness,  that  as  it  was  his  Father's 
work  he  was  doing,  and  his  Father's  glory  he  was 
seeking,  so  throughout  he  would  be  favored  with  divine 
support;  peradventure,  not  always,  as  not  now  in  the 
garden,  with  an  equal  effulgence  of   light,  but  sub- 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  287 

stantially  both  now  and  to  the  end,  with  the  sustenta- 
tion  of  that  Father's  hand. 

4.  From  all  which  it  must  follow,  that  neither  can 
his  agony  be  traced  to  any  distrust  in  his  own  capacity 
to  finish  the  work  which  had  been  given  him  to  do. 
He  believed  that  the  result  of  his  sufferings  would  be 
God's  glory  in  the  salvation  of  sinners,  and  he  knew 
that  he  would  accomplish  both.  He  had  counted  the 
cost  before  he  began  to  build  the  temple ;  he  had 
secured  the  charges  before  he  ventured  upon  the  war- 
fare. This  being  the  case,  he  must,  from  the  very 
beginning,  have  been  possessed  with  the  thorough 
persuasion  that  victory  awaited  him.  It  was  respect 
unto  the  recompense  of  reward  that  moved  Moses  to 
esteem  the  reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches  than  the 
treasures  of  Egypt ;  and  it  was  for  the  joy  that  was 
set  before  him  that  Jesus  "  endured  the  cross,  despis- 
ing the  shame."  Dark,  then,  as  was  this  hour,  we 
cannot  suppose  that  he  had  lost  all  recollection,  or 
that  he  had  ceased  to  realize  the  approaching  glory, 
the  glory  promised  to  him  as  the  Father's  elect,  and 
as  the  church's  head.  Even  when  prostrate  on  the 
earth,  and  when  the  chilling  dews  of  eve  were  falling, 
and  when  every  pore  of  his  tortured  frame  gave  forth 
its  blood,  and  when  the  few  drowsy  friends  near  him 
were  sunk  in  sleep,  and  when  the  agony  of  his  soul 
wrung  from  him,  again  and  again,  those  heart-rending 
prayers,  and  when  already  he  might  feel  the  stealthy 
tread  of  the  traitor's  foot  in  Kedron's  vale,  and  already 
see  in  the  distance  the  flitting  lights  of  the  torches, 
and  already  hear  the  suppressed  chuckling  of  revenge 
about  to  spring  on  its  victim :  even  in  this  most  deso- 
late condition,  and  with  the  horrible  death  of  the  cross 
before  him,  God's  Son  clearly  and  firmly  embraced  the 
glorious  end  of  it  all :  and  though  for  a  time  the  joy 


288  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

of  that  end  was  wrung  out  of  his  mind,  yet  his  faith, 
his  absolute,  unfaltering,  and  unclouded  faith,  that 
such  an  end  would  be  gained,  never  shifted  its  place, 
nor  lowered  its  head ;  never  bedizened  its  eye,  nor 
relaxed  its  godlike  grasp  of  covenant  truth  and  cove- 
nant glory. 

What,  then,  could  it  be  that  so  tumultuously  agitated 
the  usually  tranquil  soul  of  our  kinsman  Redeemer  ? 
A  general  reply  to  this  question  is  all  that  shall  be 
attempted.  The  Saviour,  anticipating  this  struggle, 
had,  on  this  same  evening,  characterized  it  in  a  two- 
fold way :  "  The  prince  of  this  world  cometh  ;"  and, 
^'  Father,  the  hour  is  come."  From  the  former  of  these 
it  appears,  that  in  his  agony  he  had  a  conflict  with 
Satan,  the  precise  nature,  however,  of  which  has  not 
been  revealed.  It  is  not  likely  that  it  was  of  the  same 
kind  as  his  "  temptation."  Signally  baffled  on  this 
ground,  the  adversary  would  not  try  it  a  second  time. 
Peradventure,  on  this  awful  occasion,  he  would  rouse 
himself  to  a  last  and  dreadful  effort,  knowing  or  fear- 
ing that  the  hour  was  at  hand  when  the  seed  of  the 
woman  was  to  bruise  his  head.  We  may  suppose 
that  Satan  was  by  this  time  apprized  of  the  peculiar 
death  to  which  Jesus  was  to  be  subjected,  and  that  his 
sufferings  previously,  as  well  as  the  death  itself,  had 
all  been  the  theme  of  prophecy.  It  might  now,  then, 
be  his  object  to  falsify  prophecy,  by  an  attempt  to 
destroy  the  fortitude  of  Jesus,  and  frighten  him  from 
his  purpose  to  save  sinners  by  a  propitiatory  decease. 
In  furtherence  of  this,  he  might  project  diabolical  sug- 
gestions into  the  pure  mind  of  the  Saviour,  which 
might  exert  all  the  more  appalling  influence,  that  every 
element  in  that  region  of  holy  thought  was  essentially 
antagonist  to  them.  The  prince  of  this  world  did 
come  to  him  ;  but  Jesus  could  and  did  say  with  per» 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  289 

feet  truth,  ''  he  hath  nothing  in  me ;"  that  is,  no  weak- 
ness, no  depravity,  upon  which  he  can  successfully  act. 
Hence,  while  his  attempts  agonized,  or  caused  a  com- 
motion in  the  soul  of  Jesus,  they  were  utterly  abortive. 
But  there  was  more  than  this.  In  his  intercessory 
prayer  he  had  said,  ''  Father,  the  hour  is  come."  Yes  ; 
and  such  an  hour  never  before  had  come,  either  in 
providence  or  grace.  At  this  hour  that  Father  ex- 
pected that  the  prophecies  should  be  verified,  and  the 
types  fulfilled.  Ancient  seers  and  typical  personages 
might  now  overlook  their  mysterious  champion,  to  be- 
hold his  wonderful  vindication  of  their  truth  and  honor. 
When  we  consider,  then,  the  number  and  importance 
of  these  predictions,  and  the  multifarious  peculiarities 
of  these  types,  and  the  unsullied  majesty  of  that  God, 
we  need  not  be  surprised  if,  within  the  soul  of  him  at 
whom  they  all  looked,  and  from  whom  they  all  exacted 
obedience,  there  began  to  be  exceeding  great  conflict, 
beneath  which,  for  a  season,  it  appears  as  if  over- 
whelmed. Truly,  it  was  a  tremendous  undertaking 
for  one  man,  and  he  a  man  of  sorrows,  to  substantiate 
all  that  Moses  in  the  law  had  shadowed  forth,  and  to 
accomplish,  to  their  minutest  iota,  all  that  major  and 
mmor  prophets  had  written.  As  the  angel  or  head  of 
the  Old  Testament  dispensation,  he  himself  had  reared 
the  entire  structure,  had  inspired  every  Roly  man  of 
God,  and  had  led  forth  the  covenant  of  his  Father, 
whether  under  Adamic,  Abrahamic,  or  Mosaic  econo- 
mies, from  the  garden  of  Eden  down  to  the  garden  of 
Gethsemane.  He  must  now,  therefore,  be  true  to 
himself,  as  well  as  to  those  whom  he  had  thus  em- 
ployed to  foreshadow  the  great  atonement  of  sin  which 
was  now  to  be  made,  and  true  to  that  God  also  who, 
at  sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners,  had  spoken 
concerning  it  to  the  world.     At  this  hour,  then,  came 

13 


290  .MOUNT    OLIVET. 

upon  him  all  these  claims  of  bygone  ages ;  and  hence 
the  dreadful  conviction  by  which  he  was  agonized,  that 
now  or  never  the  honor  of  heaven  was  to  be  preserved 
inviolate,  and  the  redemption  of  perishing  mankind 
secured. 

What,  then,  was  now  expected  of  him?  What  was 
it  that  was  now  essential  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
divine  honor,  and  the  happiness  of  the  human  soul  ? 
The  reply  is  easy — His  obedience  unto  death,  even 
the  death  of  the  cross.  In  other  words,  it  was  now 
expected  of  him  that  he  would  "  make  his  soul  an  of- 
fering for  sin."  But,  to  be  made  a  sin-offering,  to  his 
soul  sin  must  of  course  be  imputed ;  and  then,  if  sin 
must  be  imputed,  the  whole  penalty  of  the  broken  law 
must  be  exacted.  The  hour  then  had  come  when  that 
penalty  was  to  be  exacted.  He  knew  that  it  was  to  be 
exacted  almost  immediately ;  therefore  did  he  com- 
mand his  soul  to  arise  and  drink  that  cup.  His  soul 
heard  the  order,  and  arose,  though  in  agony,  to  obey. 
Perhaps  never  till  this  hour  was  the  full  view  of  the 
abominable  nature  of  sin  presented  to  that  reasonable 
soul ;  never  till  now  might  the  infinite  heinousness  of 
human  guilt  be  scanned  by  his  unclouded  intellect; 
never  till  now  might  the  ineffable  horror  of  the  wrath 
of  an  offended  God,  and  that  God  his  Father,  seize 
upon  his  tender,  trusting,  loving  spirit ;  never  till  now 
might  he  allow  himself  to  realize  the  h eighth,  and 
depth,  and  length  and  breadth,  of  the  satisfaction 
which  law  and  justice  demanded  from  a  guilty  sinner's 
surety.  If  so,  then  let  it  be  considered  that  sin  in 
any  form,  degree,  or  relationship,  when  presented  to 
the  view  of  perfect  purity,  must  be  tlie  object  of  its 
detestation.  Did  not  the  angels  desert  Paradise  when 
sin  took  possession  of  it  ?  Did  not  even  an  earthly 
isaint  excjaim,  ''  He  that  worketh  deceit  shall  not  dwell 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  291 

within  my  house ;  he  that  telleth  lies  shall  not  dwell 
in  my  sight  ?"  Here,  however,  was  the  Son  of  the 
Highest,  the  child  of  the  Holiest,  having  nothing  in 
him  with  which  the  devil  could  concert,  voluntarily 
awaiting  and  challenging  his  most  malignant  assaults. 
Here  he  was,  mysteriously  connected  with  sin,  that 
evil  and  bitter  thing  which  his  soul  hated — ay,  liter- 
ally bearing  sin,  and  bearing  it  too  upon  a  soul  of 
absolute  perfection  in  holiness.  Here  was  the  Lamb 
of  God,  not  only  charged  with  "  sins  not  his  own," 
but  suffering,  through  its  horrible  extent,  their  dread- 
ful penalty ;  for  "  he  was  wounded  for  our  transgres- 
sions, he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities :  the  chastise- 
ment of  our  peace  was  upon  him  ;  and  with  his  stripes 
we  are  healed." 

Upon  such  topics  it  were  both  pleasant  and  profita- 
ble to  enlarge ;  but  we  must  now  hearken  to  a  few  of 
those  serious  cautions  and  lessons  which  descend  to  us 
from  this  memorable  spot  on  Olivet. 


PART   lY. 

THE    COUNSELS   OF    OLIVET. 

MALIGNITY    OF    SIN REDEEMING    LOVE CONFIDENCE    IN    THE 

ATONEMENT GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST UNBELIEF. 

I.  Gethsemane  proclaims  the  malignity  and  evil 
OF  SIN. — ^No  trivial  matter  could  that  be,  which  occa- 
sioned such  a  storm  in  the  soul  of  Emmanuel.  Death, 
and  all  the  other  woes  that  have  come  upon  our  world, 
tell  loudly  against  sin  ;  but  the  sufferings  of  the  Sav- 


292  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

iour  at  this  hour  proclaim  the  same  truth  with  a  far 
more  awful  emphasis,  Sinners  !  go  to  Gethsemane, 
and  study  what  sin  is  in  itself,  and  what  are  its  neces- 
sary fruits.  The  world's  gaudy  scenes  are  not  the 
proper  schools  out  of  which  to  take  lessons  on  such  a 
theme.  There  the  truth  is  concealed  from  your 
minds,  and  you  are  made  to  believe  a  lie.  The  imbe- 
cile strictures,  too,  of  a  merely  ethical  philosophy  are 
not  much  better  as  instructors  on  such  a  topic.  Some 
little  excuses  are  there  ventured  on  for  poor  human 
nature,  and  the  hideousness  of  immorality  is  some- 
times veiled  behind  the  charities  of  a  morbid  forbear- 
ance. But  there  can  be  no  mistakes  upon  sin  from 
the  lessons  of  this  garden.  After  what  has  been  de- 
clared from  such  an  oracle,  we  are  bound  to  believe 
that  the  scriptural  accounts  of  it  are  all  truthful ;  not 
exaggerated  fancies,  but  sober  and  correct  descriptions, 
such  as  fully  justify  God  in  his  denunciations  of  it,  in 
his  punishment  of  it,  and  in  the  mysterious  method  he 
adopted  to  save  its  human  victims  from  its  appalling 
results. 

II.  Gethsemane  proclaims  the  power  of  redeem- 
ing LOVE. — Mere  philanthropy  could  not  have  sus- 
tained such  a  shock.  Yea,  the  combined  benevolence 
of  angels  would  have  failed  in  this  struggle  !  But  the 
love  of  Christ  was  equal  to  its  endurance,  not  only 
because  it  was  perfectly  sincere,  and  intensely  ardent, 
(for  this  alone  must  have  been  inadequate,)  but  be- 
cause it  was  divine  love — yes,  divine  love  for  sinners 
was  the  main  prop  of  the  man  Christ  Jesus  when  he 
was  passing  through  this  ordeal.  This  love  bore  him 
upwards  and  onwards,  as  all  the  billows  rolled  over 
him,  till  he  reached  the  haven  of  his  Father's  bosom, 
which  received  his  spirit.  Not  one  of  the  angry 
waters  could   quench   that  love.      It  was  strong  as 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  293 

death.  He  who  can  analyze  the  mixture  of  the  cup 
which  our  Saviour  here  drank,  and  not  resolve  all  into 
the  most  transcendent  and  incomprehensible  love  for 
man,  must  either  be  grossly  infidel,  or  wickedly  indif- 
ferent. That  man  is  greatly  to  be  pitied  who  can 
listen  to  the  cries,  and  witness  the  tears  and  blood  of 
Christ  on  this  night,  and  not  retire  to  his  chamber 
more  thoroughly  disgusted  than  ever  with  sin,  and 
more  enchanted  than  ever  with  the  Saviour  from  it. 
III.  Gethsemane   proclaims   the   duty  of   joyful 

CONFIDENCE     IN    THE     ATONEMENT. BcHeVer,    this    is    of 

course  your  duty.  Surely  you  cannot  question  your 
personal  interest  in  these  agonies.  The  griefs  borne 
there  were  yours ;  the  sorrows  carried  there  were 
yours;  and  these  griefs  and  sorrows  were  occasioned 
by  your  sins.  This  is  true,  and  what  follows?  It 
follows  that  your  sins  can  never  rise  up  against  you ; 
your  curse  is  exhausted;  it  spent  its  fury  on  your 
Surety.  Let  this  then,  henceforth,  be  your  address 
to  Christ :  Lord  Jesus,  from  this  moment  I  cast  from 
me  all  doubts  as  to  my  personal  safety  now,  as  to  my 
eternal  happiness  hereafter ;  and  if  at  any  time  of 
infirmity,  fears  for  my  soul  should  rush  in  to  vex  me, 
I  will  remember  the  night  when  thy  soul  was  exceed- 
ing sorrowful,  even  unto  death ;  and  even  to  my  own 
death  I  will  essay  to  preserve  my  own  soul  exceeding 
joyful  in  thy  love.  Yes,  Lord,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  number  or  aggravation  of  my  sins,  though  I 
may  have  been  a  sinner  of  deeper  dye  than  ever  trod 
this  earth,  I  will  now,  by  thy  grace,  banish  from  me 
the  terrors  of  the  law ;  I  will  quail  no  more  before  the 
baring  of  God's  holy  arm,  or  the  sheen  and  sharpness 
of  his  sword.  For,  when  I  look  upon  thee,  my  God, 
my  kinsman  Redeemer,  at  the  hour  and  amid  the 
powers  of  darkness,  I  am  assured  that  the  law  has 


294  MOUNT    OLIVET. 

been  satisfied,  that  the  divine  arm  has  dealt  its  dead- 
liest stroke,  and  that  the  sword  of  inflexible  justice 
must  now  be  sheathed,  since  it  had  such  an  awaken- 
ing against  the  man  that  was  God's  fellow.  Believer, 
you  commit  no  presumptuous  sin  in  thus  assuring 
your  heart  in  Christ  before  God ;  only  hold  fast  your 
confidence,  and  let  none  take  it  from  you,  and  thus 
all  will  be  well  with  thy  soul — at  present  in  Christian 
conflict,  in  a  short  time  in  combat  with  the  King  of 
Terrors — at  the  great  tribunal  of  God  when  you  come 
to  judgment,  and  throughout  eternity  in  the  presence 
of  God  and  the  Lamb. 

IV.  Gethsemane  proclaims  the  duty  of  ardent 
GRATITUDE  TO  THE  Saviour. — All  who  havc  bccn 
washed  from  their  sins  in  his  blood  will  readily  ad- 
mit, that  prompt  devotement  of  themselves  to  him  and 
his  cause  forever,  is  the  very  least  return  that  they 
can  make  to  him.  Can  you  realize  such  a  scene  as 
took  place  this  night,  and,  after  associating  your  own 
sins  with  it,  refuse  to  acknowledge  that  now  "  ye  are 
not,"  cannot,  ought  not  to  be  "your  own?"  That 
agony  on  the  mount  of  Olives  bought  you  for  the  suf- 
ferer. On  the  cross,  it  is  true,  the  price  was  given  in 
full ;  but  even  here,  as  much  was  advanced  as  should 
dispose  you  promptly  to  surrender  all  you  are,  and  all 
you  possess,  to  him,  and  to  him  alone.  It  is  enough 
to  bring  the  blush  to  the  cheek,  enough  to  suffuse  the 
heart  with  shame,  to  think  how  coolly  and  miserly 
some  professors  can  sit  down  and  calculate,  not  how 
much,  but  how  little  they  can  do  for  or  give  to  Jesus. 
What  an  ado,  what  a  murmuring,  what  a  scheming, 
what  an  evading,  what  a  compromising,  do  we  often 
witness  concerning  the  duty  of  sacrificing  our  flesh, 
and  giving  our  substance  to  Christ !  It  might  almost 
be  inferred,  from  the  nice  and  minute  arithmetic  which 


Mount  olivet.  295 

some  Christians  employ  to  rule  them  in  their  dona- 
tions, that  the  obligations  were  all  on  Christ's  part, 
that  we  had  already  acted  out  the  character  of  the 
generous ;  and  that  for  him  to  exact  one  farthing,  one 
self-denial,  one  nonconformity  to  this  world  in  addi- 
tion, amounts  to  extortion,  and  ought  to  be  resisted. 
Believer  in  Christ  Jesus !  make  this  cry  to  heaven : 
O  merciful  God !  keep  back  thy  servant  from  sordid 
avarice,  from  selfish  indulgences,  and  from  sinful  ex- 
travagances, so  that  with  a  free  heart,  clean  hands, 
and  consecrated  gold,  I  may  vindicate  my  state  as  a 
forgiven  debtor,  and  make  clear  my  character  as  an 
heir  of  God,  and  a  joint-heir  with  Christ. 

Men  and  brethren,  and  all  ye  who  fear  God,  be 
persuaded  that  there  is  at  least  one  thing  which  it  is 
impossible  for  you  to  do :  you  can  never  do  too  much 
for  the  sufferer  in  Gethsemane ;  for  after  you  have 
done  all,  and  given  all  on  earth,  yea,  even  after  myri- 
ads of  ages  have  revolved  over  you  in  heaven,  you 
must  still  be  infinitely  distant  from  that  imaginary 
point  where  you  can  say,  I  owe  him  no  more — all  my 
debts  to  him  are  paid.  These  debts  can  never  be 
paid,  either  by  yourselves  or  by  any  substitutes ;  be- 
cause every  breath  you  draw,  and  every  moment  of 
holy  joy  you  have  in  Paradise,  only  add  to  the  account 
against  you  for  more  gratitude  and  more  service. 
What  a  pity,  then,  that  Christians  should  calculate 
their  obligations  to  Christ  in  unfavorable  positions — 
in  their  counting-houses,  for  example,  or  places  of  ex- 
change, or  beside  their  farms,  or  over  their  merchan- 
dize !  Ah,  this  is  the  cruel  system  that  has  hitherto 
kept  Christian  liberality  a  dwarf  If  men  would  but 
sum  up  their  accounts  when  meditating  on  Olivet  or 
Calvary,  when  realizing  the  splendors  of  a  celestial 
existence  whicli  they  hope  for,  or  the  horrors  of  the 


296  MOUNT    OLIVETi 

hell  from  which  they  would  flee,  from  tliat  day  and 
hour  Christian  liberality  would  become,  as  it  is  cer- 
tain, we  hope,  at  no  distant  period,  to  become,  a  giant. 
May  God  hasten  it ! 

Does  the  unbelieving  sinner  inquire,  Have  I  any 
interest  in  these  agonies  ?  We  joyfully  reply,  You 
have — most  assuredly  you  have — God  be  thanked, 
you  have !  There  is  not  a  grander  or  more  honorable 
position  than  that  which  the  Christian  minister  occu- 
pies, when,  from  a  gospel  high  place,  he  makes,  in  the 
room  of  God,  a  full  and  free  offer  of  salvation  to  all 
who  will  accept  of  it,  through  the  mediatorial  sacrifice 
of  Christ.  This  position,  with  Gethsemane  so  near, 
we  hesitate  not  to  assume  ;  and  to  you,  trembling  and 
guilty — or  even  to  you  w4io,  though  guilty,  do  not 
yet  tremble,  is  it  boldly  proclaimed,  that  for  you,  and 
for  all  mankind,  there  is  enough  and  to  spare  in  the 
propitiatory  agonies  of  Christ.  If,  then,  you  perish, 
it  cannot  be  from  any  deficiency  in  his  agony,  or 
shortcoming  in  his  obligation.  Be  assured,  God  is 
sincere  in  calling  on  you,  as  he  does  at  this  time,  to 
repentance  and  faith — smcere  in  telling  you  of  a 
Saviour  for  the  chief  of  sinners,  and  in  swearing  by 
his  own  great  name  that  he  has  no  pleasure  in  your 
death.  If  you  perish,  it  must  be  owing  to  your  own 
unbelief  of  God's  sincerity  and  Christ's  sufficiency  ; 
entirely  owing  to  your  contempt  of  the  only  name, 
and  the  only  foundation  given  among  men  whereupon 
and  whereby  they  can  be  saved.  If  you  perish,  it 
must  be  because  you  refuse  to  identify  yourselves  with 
the  blood  of  the  garden  and  of  the  cross,  and,  by  ap- 
propriating faith,  to  make  that  blood  your  own.  O ! 
be  entreated  to  believe  that  the  sufTerins^s  of  the  Lamb 
of  God  were  of  the  nature  of  that  penalty  under 
which  you  at  this  moment  lie,  and  under  which  you 


MOUNT    OLIVET.  297 

must  lie,  till  you  go  up  to  God  and  tell  him  that  you 
accept  of  his  Son  as  your  righteousness.  Do  this  ; 
do  it  now,  do  it  in  prayerful  dependence ;  do  it  with 
all  your  heart,  and,  as  the  Lord  liveth,  it  shall  be  well 
with  your  souls.  But  what  if  you  will  not  do  this  ? 
Why,  then,  there  is  no  alternative  :  perish  you  must ; 
having  rejected  Christ,  "  there  remaineth  no  more 
sacrifice  for  sin.'* 


13* 


MOUNT    ZION, 


AND 


THE   PUBLIC   WORSHIP  OF   GOD. 


The  very  name  "  mount  Zion,"  awakens  most  in- 
teresting emotions  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  God. 
It  is  associated  with  the  history  of  some  of  the  most 
illustrious  men,  and  of  many  of  the  most  remarkable 
events,  connected  with  the  Hebrew  church  and  state  ; 
and  it  is  employed  in  scripture  to  describe  the  present 
character,  as  well  as  the  future  condition  of  the  church 
of  God  in  that  country  which  is  an  heavenly. 

With  regard  to  the  mountain  itself,  strictly  so 
called,  little  requires  to  be  told.  In  describing  the 
position  of  mount  Moriah,  we  stated  that  it  was  one 
of  three  rising  grounds  on  which  the  city  of  Jerusalem 
was  built,  and  that  the  other  two  were  designated 
mount  Acra,  and  mount  Zion.  On  Moriah  the  temple 
of  Solomon  was  situated ;  on  Acra  many  of  the  prin- 
cipal streets  of  the  city  were  built;  and  on  mount 
Zion  were  erected  the  chief  buildings  belonging  to  the 
kings  and  nobles  of  Judea.  Here  were  the  "  bulwarks, 
palaces,  and  towers,"  which  the  psalmist  extols.  Zion 
may  be  said  to  have  been  the  heart  and  strength  of 
Jerusalem.  Situated  on  the  heights  of  the  southern 
extremity,  it  was  seen  towering  over  all  the  rest.     It 


MuUxNT    ZION.  299 

is  sometimes  called  the  "  city  of  David,"  chiefly  be- 
cause he  resided  in  it.  The  palace  of  the  king  was 
there.  For  this  reason,  perhaps,  the  entire  city  was 
sometimes  designated  Zion. 

Of  the  literal  mount  Zion  there  are  now  no  remains. 
The  bare  eminence  may  still  be  seen,  but  its  "palaces 
and  towers"  are  gone.  It  was  prophesied  that  ''Zion 
sJiall  be  ploughed  as  a  field,  and  Jerusalem  shall  be- 
come heaps."  This  prediction  has  been  accomplished 
many  centuries  ago.  Because  of  the  treatment  given 
by  the  Jews  to  the  Saviour,  their  holy  city  was  doomed 
to  destruction.  Titus  Vespasian  was  the  instrument 
in  God's  hand  for  inflicting  this  dreadful  judgment  J 
and  now  the  grass  of  the  field  may  be  seen  waving 
where  the  city  of  David  once  reared  its  magnificent 
turrets ;  the  heathen  are  walking  in  the  streets  of 
Jerusalem  ;  the  Turk  has  built  his  mosque  on  Moriah, 
and  the  city  of  God  is  now  ''  the  forsaken  of  God." 
Whether  the  time  shall  come  when  its  ruined  walls 
shall  be  actually  rebuilt,  when  the  lineal  seed  of 
Abraham  shall  take  possession  of  its  gates,  and  its 
temple  shall  once  more  receive  within  its  sacred  walls 
the  tribes  of  the  Lord,  is  scarcely  worthy  of  inquiry. 
Events  of  far  higher  moment  are  in  the  womb  of 
Providence,  with  regard  to  the  progress  and  triumphs 
of  the  church  ;  and  it  is  of  greater  importance  to 
hasten  on  the  period  when  the  whole  earth  shall  be 
filled  with  his  knowledge,  than  to  define  the  seasons 
of  any  particular  people's  advancement  from  unbelief 
to  Christ,  from  the  world  to  the  church. 

It  is  our  purpose,  in  treating  of  mount  Zion,  to  con- 
sider, first  of  all,  the  subject  of  public  worship,  as  that 
ordinance  seems  to  be  indicated  in  the  religious  festi- 
vals of  the  Jews  held  annually  in  Jerusalem;*  and 

♦  Psalm  Ixv.  1. 


300  MOUNT    ZION. 

then,  in  a  separate  and  concluding  prelection,  to  take 
a  view  of  mount  Zion  above,  or  the  church  in  her  state 
of  perfection  and  triumph. 


PART  I. 

THE    PUBLIC    WORSHIP    OF    GOD. 

PUBLIC    WORSHIP    A    DIVINE    ORDINANCE OLD    TESTAMENT 

TIMES PRIMITIVE    CHRISTIANITY. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  the  religion  of  Nature 
does  not  expressly  enjoin  the  public  worship  of  Jeho- 
vah. Reason,  however,  though  by  no  means  an  in- 
fallible guide  in  matters  of  faith  and  duty,  seems  to 
point  to  it  as  incumbent  upon  the  intelligent  crea- 
tures of  God ;  and  the  discovery  of  faint  resemblances 
of  it  among  the  heathen  corroborates  the  idea,  that 
to  assemble  for  such  sacred  purpose  is,  to  a  certain 
extent,  natural  to  men.  It  has  been  often  urged,  and 
most  properly,  we  think,  as  one  of  the  proofs  of  the 
moral  obligation  of  the  Sabbath,  that  among  all  peo- 
ple, barbarous  and  civilized,  pagan  or  Christian,  one 
day  in  the  seven  has,  from  time  immemorial,  been  set 
apart  for  the  performance  of  religious  rites.  Hesiod, 
Homer,  and  Callimachus,  in  their  writings,  characterize 
the  seventh  day  as  holy;*  and  other  ancient  authori- 
ties tell  us  that  "  the  seventh  day  was  a  festival  of 
every  nation,"!  "  a  day  which  all  mankind  celebrate."! 
So  far,  then,  from  superstition  putting  her  veto  on  the 

*  *  E/?J')/io»/  Upov  nyap.'     Hesiod.  t  Philo. 

X  Theophilus  of  Antioch. 


MOUNT    ZION.  30t 

practice,  it  is  singular  enough  that  even  by  her  influ- 
ence, blinded  and  impure  as  she  is,  great  multitudes 
of  deceived  devotees  have,  in  all  ages,  been  drawn  to 
worship  together  before  her  slirines,  often  dragged  as 
besotted  slaves  at  her  chariot- wheels,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  sacrificed  upon  her  Moloch  altars.  In  despotic 
countries,  too,  where  liberty  is  but  moderately,  if  in 
any  degree  allowed,  public  meetings  for  religious  ser- 
vices have  not  only  been  tolerated,  but  authorized, 
while  gatherings  of  the  people  for  any  other  object 
have  been  sternly  interdicted,  and,  when  attempted, 
often  cruelly  put  down.  Those  who  are  accustomed 
to  read  the  narratives  of  intelligent  travellers,  must  be 
aware  of  the  enthusiasm  wherewith  the  vain  Chinese, 
whether  Confucians,  or  Taouists,  or  Buddhists,  wait 
upon  the  worship  of  their  false  deities ;  and  of  the 
fanatical  ardor  which  impels  multitudes  of  Hindoos 
to  swell  the  festival  processions  of  Bramah,  Vishna, 
and  Siva.  Into  whatsoever  region,  indeed,  enlightened 
curiosity  has  wandered,  from  the  more  civilized  com- 
munities of  Europe,  to  the  heathens  of  Polynesia, 
striking  illustrations  of  this  practice  have  not  been 
awanting.  While,  however,  these  semblances  of  the 
duty  are  interesting,  as  indirect  hints  of  its  being 
congenial  even  with  the  dictates  of  reason,  our  views 
regarding  its  sacred  character  must  be  regulated  by 
express  revelation ;  and  here  we  can  be  at  no  loss  to 
ascertain  the  divine  mind. 

Till  men  began  to  multiply  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  we  should  have,  in 
the  Old  Testament  Scriptures,  any  express  references 
to  the  duty  of  public  worship  ;  hence  the  silence  of  the 
Bible  upon  the  subject  at  the  time  of,  and  subsequent 
to,  the  fall  of  man.  We  can  scarce  doubt,  however, 
that  wherever  God  has  had  a  people,  and  whenever 


302  MOUNT    2I0N. 

Opportunities  were  afforded  them,  they  have  not  been 
backward  to  assemble  themselves  together,  to  "  speak 
of  the  glory  of  his  kingdom,  and  talk  of  his  power." 
Preaching,  we  know,  has  ever  been  a  part  of  public 
worship ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  was  an 
exercise  in  which  Noah  was  often  engaged  when  the 
ark  was  building.  No  sooner  had  the  waters  of  the 
flood  subsided,  than  we  find  this  interesting  patriarch 
gathering  his  household  together  while  they,  comprising 
the  whole  of  the  human  race  on  the  earth,  united  in 
offering  sacrifices  to  Jehovah.  Up  to  the  period  of  the 
Christian  era,  sacrifices  always  formed  an  important 
element  in  worship.  Abraham  erected  altars  where- 
ever  he  sojourned,  and,  for  himself  and  family,  pre- 
sented offerings  to  Jehovah.  In  such  practices  he  was 
followed  by  his  descendants,  Isaac  and  Jacob ;  but 
Scripture  does  not  inform  us  whether  or  not  the  Israel- 
ites, during  the  period  of  their  bondage  in  Egypt,  per- 
formed the  duties  of  patriarchal  piety. 

There  is,  indeed,  reason  to  fear,  that  under  the 
spirit-depressing  bondage  to  w^hich  the  Israelites  were 
for  so  Jong  time  subjected,  they  allowed  their  own 
peculiar  religious  rites  to  fall  into  desuetude,  and,  per- 
adventure,  insensibly  and  sinfully  imbibed  the  spirit 
of  that  idolatry  which  abounded  on  every  hand.  De- 
generated, however,  as  the  state  of  religion  among 
them  was  at  the  time  of  Moses  being  raised  up,  there 
was  evidently  a  revival  of  godliness  under  his  remark- 
able ministry.  A  proof  of  this  will  be  found  in  the 
request  they  tendered  to  Pharaoh,  to  permit  them  to 
go  three  days'  journey  into  the  wilderness,  that  they 
might  sacrifice  unto  the  Lord  their  God.  When  their 
emancipation  was  at  length  effected  by  the  "  right 
hand"  of  God,  and  after  they  had  passed  in  safety 
tlirough  the  Red  Sea,  we  have  then  one  of  the  most 


MOUNT    ZION.  303 

impressive  instances  of  public  worship  that  can  well  be 
conceived.  It  is  written,  "  Then  sang  Moses  and  the 
children  of  Israel  this  song  unto  the  Lord,  and  spake, 
saying,  I  will  sing  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  hath  tri- 
umphed gloriously :  the  horse  and  his  rider  hath  he 
thrown  into  the  sea."  There  are  so  many  elements 
of  sacred  grandeur  and  sublimity  about  the  whole  of 
this  scene,  that  we  are  strongly  tempted  to  dwell  for 
a  little  upon  the  reflections  which  it  suggests ;  but 
we  must  refrain,  only  remarking,  that  it  is  highly 
probable,  that  from  this  time  forward  the  Hebrews 
did  not  neglect  opportunities  to  repeat  the  song  which 
had  first  burst  from  their  wondering  hearts  when  they 
"  saw  the  Egyptians  dead  upon  the  sea-shore."  Ere 
long,  the  law  was  given  from  Sinai,  and  then  the 
whole  arrangements  and  statutes  of  their  economy 
were  fully  detailed,  in  which,  especially,  the  extraor- 
dinary occasions  for  public  worship  occupied  a  con- 
spicuous place.  It  is  not  necessary  here  to  allude  to 
these,  farther  than  to  state  that,  independent  altogether 
of  whatsoever  acts  of  worship  might  be  performed  by 
them  under  the  ministry  of  their  district  priests,  or 
under  the  regulations  of  the  Sanhedrim,  when  syna- 
gogues came  to  be  frequented,  there  were  three  dif- 
ferent times  in  the  year  when  all  the  males  of  Israel 
were  commanded  to  go  up  and  worship  before  Jehovah 
at  Jerusalem  ;  these  were  the  feasts  of  passover,  pente- 
cost,  and  tabernacles. 

It  is  alike  pleasant  and  profitable,  when  searching 
the  scriptures,  to  notice  the  very  significant  hints  of 
this  custom  of  worshipping  God  in  public  during  the 
periods  subsequent  to  the  ministry  of  Moses.  For 
example,  it  was  provided  in  the  law  that  two  silver 
trumpets  were  to  be  blown,  to  call,  at  the  proper 
times,  the  assembly  of  the  congrcigration  to  the  door 


304  MOUNT    ZION. 

of  the  tabernacle.  We  are  told  also,  that  when  en- 
gaged at  the  tinie  of  the  evening  sacrifice  in  weep- 
ing, and  mourning,  and  confessing  the  sins  of  the 
people,  before  the  house  of  God,  "  there  assembled 
unto  Ezra  out  of  Israel  a  very  great  congregation  of 
men,  and  women,  and  children :  for  the  people  wept 
very  sore."  And  on  another  occasion  it  is  written, 
that  when  the  "  book  of  the  law"  of  Moses  was  to  be 
read,  "  Ezra  opened  the  book  in  the  sight  of  all  the 
people,  for  he  was  above  all  the  people,  and  when  he 
opened  it,  all  the  people  stood  up ;  and  Ezra  blessed 
the  Lord,  the  great  God,  and  all  the  people  answered 
Amen,  amen,  with  lifting  up  their  hands,  and  they 
bowed  their  heads,  and  worshipped  the  Lord,  with 
their  faces  to  the  ground."  And  who  has  not  heard 
of  the  devotional  character  of  David,  and  of  his 
regular  habit  of  going  up  to  "worship  the  Lord, 
towards  his  holy  temple?"  His  beautiful  psahns 
abound  with  allusions  to  the  duty  ;  and  in  the  writings 
of  the  prophets,  there  are  here  and  there  to  be  found 
distinct  references  to  the  worship  of  the  sanctuary. 
When,  in  the  mysteries  of  Providence,  Israel  was 
taken  captive  to  far  distant  lands,  deeper  poignancy 
seems  to  have  been  imparted  to  their  sorrows,  as  by 
the  rivers  of  Babylon  they  sat  down  and  wept,  re- 
membering the  songs  they  had  sung  together  within 
the  courts  of  God's  house  at  Jerusalem ;  and  one  re- 
deeming feature  of  the  degenerate  times  in  which  the 
prophet  Malachi  lived  was,  that  "  then  they  that  feared 
the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  another :  and  the  Lord 
hearkened,  and  heard  it ;  and  a  book  of  remembrance 
was  written  before  him  for  them  that  feared  the  Lord, 
and  that  thought  upon  his  name." 

In  reviewing  the  Christian  dispensation,  it  seems 
almost  unnecessary  to  say,  that  whatever  abrogations 


MOUNT    ZION.  305 

were  made  as  to  the  ceremonial  and  judicial  depart- 
ments of  the  former  economy,  the  spirit  and  substance 
of  religious  worship  were  retained.  Public  worship 
was  not  abolished.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  expressly 
legislated  for,  and  provision  was  made  for  its  celebra- 
tion by  the  Head  of  the  church.  Ere  he  left  the  world, 
he  instituted  the  gospel  ministry,  with  instructions  to 
the  apostles  that  they  should  preach  the  gospel,  and 
be,  in  general,  stewards  over  the  household  of  faith. 
He,  by  his  example,  as  well  as  by  his  precept,  did, 
after  his  resurrection,  set  apart  the  first  day  of  the 
week  for  the  duties  of  the  sanctuary  :  and  it  was  when 
on  that  day  the  disciples  were  assembled,  that  the  in- 
fluences of  the  Holy  Ghost  were  poured  out  upon  the 
infant  Christian  church.  Moreover,  all  the  necessary 
rules  for  the  regulation,  maintenance,  and  extension 
of  the  gospel  kingdom  are  specified  and  enjoined,  and 
these  generally  imply  the  assembhng  of  God's  people 
for  public  worship.  The  promise  of  the  presence  and 
blessing  of  the  Saviour  is  specially  directed  to  the 
meetings  of  the  saints  in  his  name.  The  very  nature 
of  the  two  symbolic  ordinances  of  Christianity,  Bap- 
tism and  the  Lord's  Supper,  implies  publicity  in  their 
observance ;  and  indeed  the  design  of  their  institution 
would  be  lost  if  they  were  otherwise  than  publicly  sol- 
emnized. On  the  other  hand,  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 
which  to  the  church  stand  in  the  place  of  direct  author- 
ity from  the  Saviour  himself,  clearly  illustrate,  and 
most  unequivocally  enjoin  the  duty.  "  Let  us  con- 
sider one  another,"  says  Paul,  "  to  provoke  unto  love, 
and  to  good  works :  not  forsaking  the  assembling  of 
ourselves  together,  as  the  manner  of  some  is  " 

A  superficial  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  what 
may  be  called  primitive  Christianity,  must  convince 
us  how  regularly  and  courageously  this  sacred  duty 


306  MOUNT    ZION. 

was  observed  and  perpetuated.  "  All  Christians,"  says 
Mosheim,  "  were  unanimous  in  setting  apart  the  first 
day  of  the  week,  on  which  the  triumphant  Saviour 
arose  from  the  dead,  for  the  solemn  celebration  of  pub- 
lic worship.  This  pious  custom,  which  was  derived 
from  the  example  of  the  church  at  Jerusalem,  was 
founded  upon  the  express  appointment  of  the  apostles, 
who  consecrated  that  day  to  the  same  purpose,  and 
was  observed  universally  throughout  all  the  Christian 
churches,  as  appears  from  the  united  testimonies  of 
the  most  creditable  writers."*  "  Let  us  no  more  Sab- 
batise,"  says  Ignatius,  who  was  a  companion  of  the 
apostles;  '' let  us  keep  the  Lord's-day,  on  which  our 
Life  arose."  "  On  the  day  called  Sunday,"  writes 
Justyn  Martyr,  who  lived  in  the  second  century,  "  is 
an  assembly  of  all  who  live  in  the  city  or  country  ; 
and  the  memoirs  of  the  apostles  and  writings  of  the 
prophets  are  read."  And  Ireneeus,  the  disciple  of  Poly- 
carp,  who  was  a  disciple  of  John,  corroborates  the  tes- 
timony of  all  the  fathers.  "  Every  one  of  us  Christ- 
ians," says  he,  "  keep  the  Sabbath,  meditating  in  the 
law,  and  rejoicing  in  the  works  of  the  Lord."  Now, 
these  uninspired,  but  well-authenticated  statements  be- 
come exceedingly  interesting  to  the  pious  mind,  when 
associated  with  the  lofty  spirit  of  enterprise,  and  the 
fearless  fortitude  wherewith  the  righteous,  in  these 
dark  and  bloody  times,  maintained  a  regular  observ- 
ance of  this  duty. 

At  that  period,  it  was  not  so  good  and  pleasant,  as 
it  has  been  since,  for  "  brethren  to  dwell  together  in 
unity."  The  Roman  law  not  only  frowned  upon,  but 
peremptorily  interdicted  Christian  assemblies.  Trajan 
was  not  the  only  autocrat  who  anathematized  the 
public  worship  of  their  God  ;  nor  was  Pliny  the  only 

*  Mosheim,  Cent.  I.  Chap.  iv.  Sec.  iv. 


MOUNT    ZION.  307 

sycophant  that  liberall}^  interpreted  the  imperial  edict 
to  scatter  them  to  the  winds.  Notwithstanding,  they 
braved  the  rage  of  their  enemies,  and  met  together, 
sometimes  even  at  the  midnight  hour,  till  the  crowing 
of  the  cock  warned  them  of  the  re-opening  of  the  san- 
guinary amphitheatre.  These  were  days  when  Chris- 
tianity was  indeed  a  reality.  The  testimonies  of  saints 
had  then  to  be  given  amid  the  tragedies  of  martyrdom. 
Let  us  never  cease  to  acknowledge  our  debt  of  grati- 
tude to  those  who  thus  earnestly  contended  for  the 
faith. 

Having  thus  ascertained  the  divine  appointment  of 
the  ordinance,  let  us  now  inquire  into  its  peculiar 
beauties.* 


PART   II. 

THE   BEAUTIES    OF   PUBLIC    WORSHIP. 

MORAL    SITUATION DESIGN SEASON EXERCISES 

DISPOSITIONS. 

Beauty  has  been  defined  to  be  that  quality  in  visible 
objects  in  consequence  of  which  their  colors  and  forms 
are  agreeable  to  the  human  mind.  The  strictly  philo- 
sophical meaning  of  the  term,  however,  is  not  always 
adhered  to.  It  is  often  extended  to  objects  perceptible 
by  other  senses  than  that  of  sight,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  to  the  productions  of  the  human  mind  ;  to  a 
powerful  argument,  for  instance,  or  an  eloquent  pero- 
ration, or  a  piece  of  fine  poetry,  or  to  appropriate  and 

♦  Psalm  xlviii. 


308  MOUNT    ZION. 

striking  figures.  This  term  is  also  transferred  to  the 
scenes  and  services  of  the  sanctuary,  where  a  sense  of 
what  is  strictly  spiritual  may  be  said  to  predominate 
over  other  objects  only  physically  or  intellectually 
beautiful.  It  were  an  easy  matter  to  go  over  all  that 
appertains  to  the  public  ordinances  of  our  faith,  and 
characterize  all  as  beautiful.  A  few  cursory  allusions, 
however,  must  suffice. 

Of  the  architectural  beauties  of  those  buildings 
wherein  the  worship  of  God  may  be  publicly  cele- 
brated we  are  not  called  upon  to  speak.  It  is  upon 
the  moral  and  religious  aspects  of  the  ordinance  that 
we  ought  to  meditate.  These  are  its  chief  attractions 
to  the  saint ;  the  charms  that  at  first  arrested  his  at- 
tention, and  that  multiply  their  fascinations  around 
him  the  longer  he  stands  within  the  gates  of  Jerusalem. 
But  for  these,  indeed,  it  must  have  been  obsolete  long 
ago.  The  church,  the  world,  both  are  indebted  to 
these  ;  for,  despite  of  every  opposition  from  the  earth, 
or  from  beneath  the  earth,  public  worship  remains  unto 
this  day,  one  of  the  grand  mediums  by  which  man 
draws  near  to  God,  and  God  holds  fellowship  with 
man.  Who  that  meditates  on  the  scriptural  references 
to  the  subject  can  fail  to  notice  the  eloquent  tributes 
that  are,  not  lavishly,  but  justly  paid  to  its  peculiar 
beauties  ?  When  the  inspired  penmen  advert  to  them, 
they  can  scarcely  restrain  their  enthusiastic  applause 
of  the  courts  of  the  living  God  ;  nor  will  the  cordiality 
wherewith  the  pious  disciple  of  Jesus  goes  up  to  his 
humble  sanctuary,  suffer  by  comparison  with  the  at- 
tachment of  the  devout  Jew  to  the  holy  hill  of  Zion. 
The  ordinance  may  be  seen  from  different  positions  ; 
and  according  as  it  is  viewed  through  the  telescope  of 
faith  from  each  of  these,  its  several  beauties  become 
apparent.     I  shall  humbly  attempt  to  move  this  moral, 


MOUNT    ZION.  309 

this  sacred  panorama  before  your  eyes,  conscious  that 
with  the  great  features  of  the  picture  you  have  been 
long  familiar,  but  trusting  to  your  ardent  attachment 
to  the  subject,  that  another  exhibition  of  its  charms 
will  neither  surfeit  nor  fatigue  your  minds. 

1.  In  the  view  of  the  saint  the  situation  of  the  ordi- 
nance is  beautiful.  This  praise,  you  are  aware,  was 
given  to  ancient  Zion,  ''  Beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy 
of  the  whole  earth,  is  mount  Zion."  Again,  it  is  writ- 
ten, "  Out  of  Zion,  the  perfection  of  beauty,  God  hath 
shined."  The  temple,  in  the  days  of  our  Saviour,  had 
one  gate  which  was  called  "  Beautiful."  But  this  or- 
dinance, in  all  its  departments,  is  worthy  of  this  praise, 
and  perhaps  in  no  view  is  it  more  deserving  of  it,  than 
with  respect  to  its  situation.  What  is  it  ?  God  has 
let  it  down  from  heaven,  and  placed  it  in  the  midst 
of  a  thoughtless,  godless  world.  It  is  "  the  true  taber- 
nacle which  the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man."  Not 
more  bleak  and  barren  was  the  wilderness,  in  the  midst 
of  which  the  first  tabernacle  was  reared,  than  ls  the 
moral  desolateness  of  the  scene  by  which  the  gospel 
temple  is  surrounded.  Though  it  had  no  intrinsic 
beauties,  it  would  become  beautiful  from  contrast. 
The  wisdom  of  the  philosopher  is  set  off  to  finer  ad- 
vantao^e  when  taken  alonof  with  the  imbecile  efforts  of 
the  illiterate  ;  the  skill  of  the  architect  is  more  evident 
when  his  work  is  compared  with  some  ruder  struc- 
ture ;  the  solitary  oasis  appears  more  verdant  from  the 
sterility  of  the  Sahara  on  whose  arid  sands  it  reposes  ; 
the  lofty  mountain  has  a  higher  altitude  the  more  level 
and  extensive  the  plain  is  where  it  is  fixed ;  and  the 
piety  of  the  good  man  diffuses  a  brighter  halo,  the 
more  iniquitous  the  sphere  is  in  which  he  moves. 

Contrariwise,  objects  of  inferiority  become  even  more 
so,  when  contrasted  with  others  of  greater  importance. 


310  MOUNT    ZION. 

Ugliness  is  more  offensive  when  set  beside  beauty ;  in- 
firmity looks  weaker  still  in  the  presence  of  the  athletic  ; 
and  duplicity  is  never  so  much  detested  as  when  opposed 
to  uprightness  and  sincerity.  Who  does  not  dislike 
the  weed  the  more,  that  it  grows  in  the  same  bed  with 
the  tulip  ?  and  are  not  the  shades  of  twilight  more 
gloomy  after  a  day  of  brilliant  sunshine  ?  It  is  just  so 
with  the  ordinance  of  public  worship  as  to  its  situation. 
No  natural  beauties,  no  moral  grandeur,  extrinsic  to 
itself,  may  encompass  it,  but  it  is  on  that  account  all 
the  lovelier  an  object.  Is  there  no  beauty  in  the  mere 
situation  of  the  hospital  which  is  contiguous  to  the 
mansions  of  the  diseased  and  the  dying ;  or  of  the  house 
of  refuge  which  invites  the  orphan  and  the  wanderer 
within  its  gates ;  or  of  the  lighthouse  which  gives  warn- 
ing in  the  darlcness  of  night  to  the  bewildered  pilot ;  or 
of  the  educational  seminary  which  affords  the  means 
of  useful  instruction  to  the  rising  and  circumjacent 
generation  ?  These  things  gather  much  beauty  from 
their  mere  juxtaposition  to  the  objects  for  whose  bene- 
fit they  have  been  raised ;  and  so  does  the  ordinance 
of  public  worship.  It  is  set  up  in  the  midst  of  a  world 
lying  in  wickedness,  where  the  people  are  all  blind, 
miserable,  wretched,  ignorant,  and  naked,  and  to  all 
their  diversified  characters  and  necessities  does  it  im- 
part seasonable  and  suitable  relief  Better  situated  it 
could  not  be  for  poor  lost  sinners.  It  is  near  to  every 
one  of  them  ;  it  is  accessible  to  all ;  and  all  are  invited 
to  engage  in  its  service,  and  to  become  partakers  of  its 
blessings. 

2.  In  the  view  of  the  saint  the  design  contemplated 
by  this  ordinance  is  also  beautiful.  For  what  purpose 
is  the  command  issued,  "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye 
gates ;  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors  ?"  Are 
the  people  summoned  together  to  deliberate  on  secu- 


MOUNT    ZIOX.  311 

larities  ?  Is  this  the  gathering  of  a  multitude  whose 
superficial  minds  are  to  be  "  pleased  with  a  trifle,  or 
tickled  with  a  straw;"  through  whose  wide  throats 
hosannahs  may  be  poured  to-day,  and  curses  to-mor- 
row ?  Are  the  people  marshalled  to  go  down  to  the 
battle  field  and  imbrue  their  hands  in  human  gore  ? 
Far,  far  indeed,  are  such  designs  from  the  conventions 
of  the  saints.  They  meet,  but  not  to  conspire  for  the 
pitiful  profits  of  avarice  ;  the  tables  of  the  money- 
changers are  not  within  the  porches,  nor  are  the  seats 
of  them  that  buy  and  sell.  The  command  to  "  open 
to  God  the  gates  of  righteousness,"  is  issued  with  a 
higher  and  holier  design.  The  design  is  twofold ;  it 
is  a  design  precisely  of  the  same  nature  with  that  for 
which  man  was  at  first  created,  "  to  glorify  God,  and 
to  enjoy  him  forever."  This  design  is  not  served  by 
the  mere  closet  and  domestic  piety  of  the  saints ;  for 
this  ordinance  contemplates  the  lifting  up  to  the  view 
of  the  inconsiderate  and  perishing  world  the  great 
truth  that  there  is  a  God,  and  that  this  God  all  are 
bound  to  acknowledge  and  worship.  Wherever,  then, 
it  is  righteously  observed,  it  may  be  said  of  the  wor- 
shippers, as  God  said  of  the  Jews  long  ago, ''  Ye  are 
my  witnesses,  saith  the  Lord,  that  I  am  God."  While 
his  glory  is  thus  manifested  in  the  public  adoration 
of  the  people,  the  other  portion  of  the  design  is  of 
necessity  secured.  If  God  be  glorified,  man  is  bene- 
fited by  it.  He  is  by  these  means,  as  a  sinful  and 
unhappy  being,  brought  constantly  up  to  the  bread  of 
life,  to  the  water  of  life,  and  to  the  word  of  life ;  and 
thus  anew  refreshed  and  cheered,  he  goes  on  from 
strength  to  strength,  till  he  appears  before  God  in 
Zion  above. 

3.  In  the  view  of  the  saint,  the  season  for  the  ob- 
servance of  the  ordinance  is  also  beautiful.     ''  To  every 


312  MOUNT    ZION. 

thing,"  says  Solomon,  "  there  is  a  season,  and  a  time 
to  every  purpose  under  the  heaven."  "What  is  it  that 
is  not  beautiful  in  its  season,  from  the  verdure  of 
spring,  to  the  luxuriance  of  summer ;  from  the  golden 
tints  of  autumn,  to  the  snows  and  frosts  of  winter ; 
from  the  setting  to  the  rising  of  the  sun;  from  the 
merry  prattling  of  infancy,  to  the  exhilarating  buoy- 
ancy of  youth ;  from  the  sobriety  of  manhood,  to  the 
almond-tree  that  flourishes  on  the  head  of  old  age ; 
from  the  tears  that  sympathy  sheds  in  the  house  of 
mourning  to  the  hearty  joy  she  expresses  with  them 
that  rejoice?  Everything  is  indeed  beautiful  in  its 
season,  and  so  is  the  public  worship  of  God. 

The  season  appointed  for  it  is  the  first  day  of  every 
week.  Not  that  it  may  not  be  observed  occasionally 
on  other  days ;  but  that,  as  ''  this  is  the  day  which  the 
Lord  hath  made,"  so  it  is  especially  becoming  in  us  to 
"  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it."  How  beautiful  are  the 
w^orks  of  creation  I  Yon  brilliant  orb,  yon  lovely  moon, 
yon  twinkling  stars !  this  earth  in  all  its  ruins,  how 
beautiful  still !  every  herb,  and  plant,  and  flower  ! 
every  rock,  and  hill,  and  vale ! — all,  all  are  beautiful 
beyond  compare !  If  it  be  so,  then  is  it  not  most 
comely  that  on  the  very  day  when  the  august  Creator 
began  to  call  the  fabric  out  of  chaos,  men  should  meet 
to  "extol  his  mighty  acts?"  How  beautiful  is  the 
scheme  of  redemption  !  how  profound  in  wisdom  I  how 
inflexible  in  justice !  how  unspotted  in  holiness !  how 
omnipotent  in  power  !  how  perfect  in  faithfulness  !  how 
benignant  in  love !  and  how  rich  in  mercy  does  God 
appear  in  that  work  !  Can  there,  then,  be  a  more  fit- 
ting season  for  its  commemoration  than  on  that  day 
when  it  was  triumphantly  completed  in  the  resurrec- 
tion of  our  blessed  Lord  from  the  dead  ?  Assuredly 
not. 


MOUNT    ZION.  313 

4.  In  the  view  of  the  saint,  the  peculiar  exercises 
of  the  ordinance  are  also  beautiful.  These  consist  in 
praising  and  praying  to  God,  in  exhibiting  the  doctrines 
of  his  Son's  cross,  and  celebrating  the  symbolic  institu- 
tions of  Christianity.  And  where  will  you  hear  music 
so  beautiful  as  the  music  of  the  sanctuary  ?  Connois- 
seur harmonists  may  extol  the  famous  overtures  of 
Handel  and  Mozart,  but  to  the  well-tuned  heart  of 
the  believer,  the  praises  of  God,  as  sung  by  his  adopt- 
ed children,  are  more  thrilling  and  sublime.  These 
are  melodies  which,  to  devout  minds,  excel  in  pov/er 
and  pathos,  and  exercise  a  more  soothing  and  concord- 
ant influence  than  could  be  brought  from  out 

'•'The  swelling  organ  that  lifts  the  rising  soul.' 

As  to  the  exercise  of  prayer,  we  ask  if  there  is  not  a 
moral  beauty,  almost  unequalled  by  any  other  service 
in  the  sanctuary,  in  the  prostration  of  adoring  men 
before  the  throne  of  God  ?  There  is  scarcely  a  lovely 
feature  in  the  Christian  character  which  does  not  shine 
conspicuously  from  such  an  attitude,  whether  it  be 
Humility,  veiling  her  face  with  her  wings — or  Grati- 
tude, telling  over  and  over  again  the  story  of  her  obli- 
gations— or  Penitence,  striking  on  her  breast,  and  sit- 
ting in  dust  and  ashes — or  Faith,  embracing  with 
firmness  the  pledge  of  the  covenant — or  Hopp,  lifting 
up  her  hands  and  her  eyes  to  the  heavens,  where  her 
anchor  is  fixed — or  Charity,  circling  her  golden  chain 
around  the  group,  binding  each  to  one  another  as 
brethren,  and  all  to  God  as  their  common  parent ! 

The  place  where  Jehovah's  honor  is  said  to  dwell  is 

called  "  the  house  of  prayer  ;"  but  this  is  a  designation 

that  repels,  rather  than  attracts,  the  thoughtless  world. 

Prayer  is,  of  all  religious  exercises,  that  in  which  it 

14 


314  MOUNT    ZION. 

sees  the  least  beauty  that  it  should  be  desired.  And 
yet,  to  the  eye  of  piety,  how  graceful  is  the  suppliant's 
attitude  I  How  lovely  the  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance !  how  eloquent  the  strain  of  his  petition  !  It  is 
when  he  prays  in  faith  and  fervency  that  he  approaches 
nearest  to  the  description  given  of  his  Lord :  he  is 
then  "  altogether  lovely."  He  may  be  a  great  man  ; 
but  he  is  never  so  exalted  in  the  eye  of  God  as  when 
he  is  on  his  knees.  "  Behold,  he  prays  !"  is  higher 
commendation  than  if  it  were.  Behold,  he  reigns  !  He 
may  be  a  rich  man  ;  but  he  is  not  so  influential  in  dis- 
tributing opulence  as  in  supplication.  "Behold,  he 
prays !"  is  a  certificate  of  wealth  better  than  charters 
and  dispositions  of  property.  He  may  be  a  learned 
man ;  but  he  is  never  so  wise  in  cultivating  his  mind 
as  when  he  submits  it  to  the  influence  of  the  "  Father 
of  Lights."  "  Behold,  he  prays !"  is  expressive  of  more 
genuine  wisdom  than  had  all  the  ancients. 

Prayer  is  strength  and  beauty  combined.  And  when 
is  the  good  man  so  powerful  as  when  he  enlists  celestial 
alliances  on  his  side  ?  Prayer  is  holiness  and  beauty 
combined.  And  when  is  he  so  pure  as  when  he  draws 
near  to  God,  and  God  draws  near  to  him  ?  Prayer  is 
felicity  and  beauty  combined.  And  when  is  he  so  happy 
as  when,  in  the  presence  of  the  Redeemer,  tlie  burdens 
fall  from  his  back,  the  tears  are  wiped  from  his  face, 
the  emptiness  is  filled  to  an  overflow,  and  the  spirit  that 
was  heavy  is  made  to  soar  upwards  as  on  eagle's  wings  ? 
If  there  is  happiness  in  security,  he  has  it  here  ;  for 
here  he  is  within  the  strong  tower.  If  there  is  happi- 
ness at  home,  he  has  it  here ;  for  he  is  with  Him  who 
has  been  the  dwelling-place  of  his  people  in  all  genera- 
tions. If  there  is  happiness  in  plenty,  he  has  it  here ; 
here  he  is  with  Him  in  whom  dwelleth  all  the  fulness 
of  the  Godhead  bodily.     If  there  js  happiqess  in  hope, 


MOUNT    ZION.  815 

he  has  it  here  ;  for  he  realizes  now,  if  ever,  his  peculiar 
interest  in  that  atonement  from  which  he  is  soon  to 
step  into  heaven.  Strictly  speaking,  these  may  not 
constitute  the  philosophical  elements  of  mere  beauty  ; 
but  as  God  regards  them,  and  as  man  is  the  delighted 
subject  of  them,  beautiful  beyond  compare  they  un- 
doubtedly are,  else  they  could  not  be  so  attractive  to 
Him  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity.  Is 
there  not  a  beauty  in  the  artless  request  which  a  favor- 
ite child  breathes  in  the  ear  of  a  fond  parent  ?  Or 
rather,  is  there  not  a  combination  of  beauties,  such  as 
the  unaffected  expression  of  dependence,  the  absence 
of  all  fear,  the  presence  of  love,  and  the  power  of  filial 
confidence  ?  Now,  in  the  prayer  of  one  righteous  man, 
much  more  in  the  prayers  of  an  assembly  of  righteous 
men,  all  these  lovely  features  are  seen  in  holier  and 
grander  development.  Jehovah  rejoices  over  them  at 
such  a  moment,  and  only  awaits  their  uprising  to  sur- 
prise them  with  an  exceeding  abundance  ;  yea,  with 
more  than  they  were  able  to  ask  or  think. 

As  to  the  ''  preaching  of  the  word,"  which  forms  so 
important  an  element  in  this  ordinance,  we  ask  what 
system  of  truth  is  to  be  compared  with  that  which  the 
Christian  pastor  teaches  ?  and  what  mode  of  teaching 
is  so  simple,  and  so  splendidly  efficient  ?  The  moral 
beauty  of  the  Christian  pulpit  is  unmatched.  The 
microscopic  eye  of  the  natural  man  may  not  discern 
the  exquisitely  delicate  and  powerful  operations  of  its 
spiritual  mechanism  ;  unsanctified  genius  may  be  more 
easily  gratified  by  the  prelections  of  the  class-room,  the 
eloquence  of  the  senate,  or  the  sophistry  of  the  bar  ; 
and  a  morbid  sentimentalism  may  prefer  browsing  upon 
the  pretty  shrubs  and  succulent  leaves  wliich  bloom  in 
the  fairy  gardens  of  fancy  ;  but  the  Christian  pulpit  is 
the  vice-regal  throne  of  God,  from  which  descend  to 


316  MOUNT    ZION. 

erring  mortals,  now  the  thunders  and  lightnings  of  his 
law,  now  ''  the  still  small  voice"  of  his  mercy  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  now,  and  ever  and  anon,  his  most  melting 
and  earnest  entreaties  that  the  "  wicked  would  forsake 
his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,"  and, 
in  short,  that  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  should  look  unto 
him,  and  be  saved.  True,  man  is  the  teacher  ;  "  the 
treasure  is  put  into  earthen  vessels,"  and  men,  guilty 
men  are  the  taught ;  but  it  is  God  himself  that  "  gives 
increase."  He  makes  "  the  foolishness  of  preaching" 
the  wisdom  of  God,  and  the  power  of  God  unto  salva- 
tion. Oh  !  ''  how  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the 
feet  of  him  that  bringeth  good  tidings,  that  publisheth 
peace  ;  that  bringeth  good  tidings  of  good,  that  pubhsh- 
eth  salvation ;  that  saith  unto  Zion,  Thy  God  reigneth  I" 
On  the  Palatine  hill  the  temple  of  Apollo  was  built 
by  Augustus,  and  here  the  Roman  people  were  invited 
to  listen  to  the  recitals  of  favorite  works  by  their  popu- 
lar authors.  This  was  thought  a  beautiful  spectacle  ; 
but  does  it  not,  and  every  spectacle  of  a  kindred  nature, 
dwindle  into  insignificance,  compared  with  the  preach- 
ing of  Christ  and  him  crucified,  by  the  heralds  of  the 
cross,  from  the  towers  of  Zion  ?  And  as  to  the  cele- 
bration of  the  sacraments,  what  may  we  not  affirm  ? 
BUndness,  indeed,  has  happened  to  the  man  who  sees 
no  beauty  in  the  approach  to  God's  altar  of  an  affec- 
tionate parent  to  dedicate  his  offspring  to  Jehovah,  and 
to  implore  that  as  its  body  is  sprinkled  with  water,  so 
its  immortal  soul  may  be  washed  in  the  blood  of  atone- 
ment. And  there  must  be  more  than  blindness,  there 
must  be  hardness  of  heart,  about  him  who  can  contem- 
plate the  communion  of  saints  over  the  symbols  of  the 
Redeemer's  sacrifice,  and  not  discover  that  this,  in  deed 
and  in  truth,  is  the  public  worship  of  our  redeeming 
God  ''  in  the  beauties  of  holiness." 


MOUNT    ZION.  317 

All  these  exercises  are  sometimes  performed  at  one 
assembly,  when  the  occasion  becomes  emphatically  im- 
pressive ;  but  in  any  of  them,  taken  apart  and  viewed 
by  itself,  much  beauty,  many  riches  may  be  discovered  : 

"  The  pulpy  acorn,  ere  it  swells,  contains 
The  oak's  vast  branches  in  its  milky  veins : 
Grain  within  grain  successive  harvests  dwell, 
And  boundless  forests  slumber  in  a  shell."* 

Thus  sung  the  poet  when  he  anticipated  the  pro- 
ductiveness of  an  insignificant  looking  seed,  and  in 
similar  strains  may  Christian  hope  celebrate  the  ex- 
ceeding treasures  that  are  embosomed  in  the  ordinance 
of  the  public  worship  of  Jehovah. 

5.  And,  finally,  in  view  of  the  saint,  the  disposi- 
tions which  this  ordinance  calls  into  exercise  are  also 
beautiful.  Hence,  far  hence  are  banished,  not  only 
*'  the.  lusts  that  war  against  the  soul,"  but  every  tem- 
per and  sentiment  unworthy  the  man,  and  inconsistent 
for  the  Christian  to  cherish.  Here,  if  anywhere,  will 
be  found  the  ^'fear  of  the  Lord,"  which  is  said  to  be 
the  "  beginning  of  wisdom."  Here  is  to  be  seen  Ado- 
ration, with  God  in  her  heart,  the  cross  in  her  hand, 
and  heaven  in  her  eye.  Here  Praise  waits  for  Jeho- 
vah, and  raises  the  loud  hosannah,  emulous  of  seraphic 
music.  Here  Devotion,  with  reverend  hand,  kindles 
her  sacred  fires,  and  prepares  her  sweetest  incense. 
Here  Meekness  awaits  an  invitation  to  take  her  place 
among  the  sister  graces,  ''  afraid  to  go  forward  lest  she 
should  go  wrong."  Here  are  heard  the  heavy  sobs  of 
weeping  Contrition,  proving  that  "Beauty's  tears  are 
lovelier  than  her  smiles."  Here  are  not,  or  ought  not 
to  be,  pride,  or  haughtiness,  or  any  earthly  distinction. 
"  The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together,  and  the  Lord 

*  Dr.  Darwin's  "  Botanic  Garden." 


318  MOUNT    ZION. 

is  the  maker  of  them  all."  Oblivious  of  the  differ- 
ences which  the  laws  and  the  customs  of  society  have 
ordained,  Humility  presides  over  the  scene,  and, 
"thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  is  beauty's  self"  Here, 
in  short,  appear,  in  all  the  radiance  of  their  celestial 
origin.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  a  glorious  triumvi- 
rate, harmonious  in  their  concert,  and  diffusing  har- 
mony among  all  the  gifts  of  the  Spirit ;  their  influence 
is  "as  the  dew  of  Hermon,  and  as  the  dew  that  de- 
scended upon  the  mountains  of  Zion."  All  the  dis- 
positions, indeed,  called  up  to  the  service  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, or  awakened  into  exercise  in  the  house  of  God 
by  his  Holy  Spirit,  are  just  the  sanctifying  aflections 
of  the  heirs  of  immortality,  rising  up  in  cheerful  obe- 
dience to  the  startling  summons  of  the  Most  High, 
"  Awake,  awake ;  put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion ;  put 
on  thy  beautiful  garments,  O  Jerusalem,  the  holy  city : 
for  henceforth  there  shall  no  more  come  into  thee  the 
uncircumcised  and  the  unclean." 

But  we  must  now,  and  very  cursorily,  glance  at  the 
substantial  benefits  that  accompany  and  flow  from 
this  beautiful  institute.^ 


PART   III. 

THE   BLESSINGS   OF   PUBLIC   WORSHIP. 

PERSONAL DOMESTIC SOCIAL NATIONAL UNIVERSAL. 

All  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Zion  will  admit,  that 
advantages  of  the  highest  class  are  connected  with  the 

♦  Psalm  Ixxxvii.  5. 


MOUNT    ZION,  319 

ordinances  of  public  Christianity ;  and  if  not  all,  cer- 
tainly the  great  proportion  of  genuine  Christians  will 
be  ready  to  acknowledge  that  to  these  ordinances  they 
were  indebted  for  those  serious  impressions  which,  pro- 
duced by  the  Spirit  of  God  through  the  preaching  of 
the  word,  attracted  them  first  to  the  Saviour,  and  ever 
since  have  bound  them,  in  faith  and  love,  to  him  and 
to  his  cause.  I  shall  therefore  only  remark,  generally, 
that  public  worship  secures  personal,  domestic,  social, 
national,  and  universal  blessings. 

It  secures  personal  blessings,  inasmuch  as  it  is,  for 
the  most  part,  in  the  house  of  prayer  that  the  sinner 
is  converted  to  God :  for  of  Zion  it  is  said,  ^'  This  man 
and  that  man  was  born  in  her  ;"  and  inasmuch  also, 
as  there  the  saint  is  made  to  grow  in  grace ;  there  he 
increases  in  knowledge,  faith,  and  holiness ;  there  he 
gets  his  supplies  of  spiritual  strength,  encouragement, 
and  consolations ;  and  there,  in  short,  he  is  made 
"meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light." 

It  secures  domestic  blessings,  inasmuch  as  by  means 
of  it  the  parent  is  enabled  to  nurture  up  his  family  in 
the  admonition  of  the  Lord ;  to  encompass  them  at 
least  once  a  week  with  the  sacred  influences  of  temple 
worship ;  by  means  of  this,  to  augment  and  empower 
his  own  authority  over  them,  to  secure  their  cordial 
attention  to  the  culture  of  personal  piety ;  and  thus 
most  materially  to  promote  the  concord  of  all  within 
the  family  circle,  and,  by  and  by,  to  introduce  them 
into  society,  prepared  for  its  duties,  and  in  a  measure 
protected  against  its  temptations. 

It  secures  social  blessings,  inasmuch  as  that  which 
tends  to  improve  the  individual  and  the  domestic  char- 
acter must  of  necessity  be  productive  of  many  bless- 
ings to  society  at  large.  As  the  family  is  made  up  of 
individuals,  and  as  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the 


320  MOUNT    ZION. 

family  as  such  just  depend  upon  the  influence  which 
religious  principle  exerts  upon  its  constituent  members, 
so  it  is  with  society.  Society  is  made  up  of  individ- 
uals, and  of  individual  families  ;  and  its  advancement 
in  all  that  is  morally  good,  in  all  that  is  justly  blissful 
to  the  social  state,  in  all  that  is  honorably  conservative 
of  the  principles  of  the  social  compact,  and  in  all  the 
plans  and  pursuits  by  which  it  may  be  enriched  and  ex- 
alted, must  of  course  keep  pace  with  the  measure  and 
the  nature  of  these  religious  impressions,  by  which  per- 
sons and  families  are  controlled,  moved,  and  regulated. 

It  secures  national  blessmgs,  inasmuch  as  its  grand 
moral  lessons,  its  sublime  moral  example,  its  pervad- 
ing moral  authorities,  all  acting  and  reacting  upon  so- 
ciety, in  its  social,  domestic,  and  personal  integrants — 
all  munificently  dispensing  an  immense  variety  of 
temporal  and  spiritual  blessings — all  conspiring  to 
thrust  out  from  amongst  us  the  vitiating  and  disgust- 
ing elements  of  sin,  and  all  decidedly  helping  forward 
the  cause  of  truth  and  righteousness — must,  of  neces- 
sity, exalt  and  bless  every  people  to  whom  the  institu- 
tion is  sacred.  All  this  amount  of  divine  control  and 
spiritual  treasure,  which  stands  connected  with  public 
worship  in  our  land,  cannot  fail  to  promote  its  great 
interests,  and  to  command,  for  all  its  institutions  and 
people,  advantages  precious  in  their  relations  to  this 
life,  but  inconceivably  more  so,  when  viewed  beside  the 
life  that  is  to  come. 

It  secures  universal  blessings.  Under  this  idea  it 
were  alike  easy  and  pleasant  to  extend  the  illustration, 
and  demonstrate  the  blessedness  of  public  worship  in 
the  holy  influences  which  emanate  from  its  various 
spheres,  and  stretch  themselves,  not  only  from  the  in- 
dividual to  the  family,  not  only  from  the  family  to 
society,  and  not  only  from  society  to  the  nation,  but 


MOUNT    ZION.  321 

from  the  nation  to  the  world ;  but,  though  the  theme 
be  inviting,  we  must  refrain,  only  remarking — that  the 
evangelization  of  the  world  depends  upon  the  church's 
constancy  in  the  ordinances  of  public  Christianity. 
What  is  Zion  but  the  church  of  God  holding  forth  the 
word  of  life  to  a  world  lying  in  darkness  ?  What  is 
Zion  but  the  pillar  and  the  ground  of  truth  ?  Hence 
Zion  is  greatly  preferred  of  Jehovah  either  to  pious 
persons  or  pious  families.  The  truth  of  God  is  no 
doubt  sacredly  enshrined  in  every  sanctified  soul,  mani- 
fested in  every  religious  life,  and  extended  by  every 
genuine  believer.  But  no  individual  Christian,  how- 
ever excellent  he  be,  is  the  sole  or  exclusive  depository 
of  that  truth.  Truth  would  survive  the  death  of  in- 
dividual saints  and  of  individual  saintly  families,  but 
truth  could  not  survive  the  destruction  of  Zion  or 
public  worship.  Its  life,  its  diffusion,  its  triumphs, 
are  all  bound  up  with  the  existence  of  the  church  in 
its  collective  capacity.  The  public  assemblies  of  the 
saints  have,  as  it  were,  the  truth  among  them,  and 
their  public  worship  is  as  one  central  altar  around 
which  their  united  affections,  energies,  and  prayers, 
are  gathered.  And  why  ?  Because  there,  in  the  holy 
ark  beneath  the  mercy-seat,  lie  not  only  the  tables  of 
the  law,  but  the  records  of  the  everlasting  covenant. 
Not  in  Hindoo  temples,  not  on  heathen  shrines,  not  in 
godless  oracles,  not  in  philosophy,  or  schools,  or  colleges, 
will  truth  be  found,  but  alone  within  the  gates  of  Zion. 
Within  these  gates  truth,  and  truth  alone,  is  pro- 
fessed ;  all  other  systems  of  religion  are  but  ''  refuges 
of  lies."  Within  these  gates  truth  is  revealed  by  the 
teaching  of  the  Spirit,  through  the  preaching  of  the 
word  ;  within  these  gates  truth  is  defended  against  the 
attacks  of  infidelity,  the  inroads  of  a  sensual  world, 
and  the  arrows  of  all  evil  powers  and  principalities ; 

14* 


322  MOUNT    ZION. 

and  within  these  gates  measures  are  concocted,  and 
agencies  employed,  for  subjugating  the  whole  world, 
down  to  the  end  of  time,  to  the  kingdom  of  our  God, 
and  of  his  Christ. 

Let  us,  then,  rejoice  in  the  ordinance  of  public  wor- 
ship, and  do  all  in  our  power  to  honor  and  maintain 
it ;  and  let  this,  among  many  others,  be  our  encourage- 
ment, that  while  such  a  safeguard  remains  in  our  land, 
the  cause  of  God  is  safe.  Like  the  little  vessel  tossed 
(Ml  the  Galilean  lake,  that  cause  has  been  often  cast 
on  stormy  tides,  but  as  yet  it  has  never  been  wrecked. 
He  who  is  the  God  of  Zion  sits  in  the  midst  as  the 
pilot  of  the  vessel ;  and  though  sometimes  he  may  seem 
asleep,  still  it  is  enough  that  he  is  in  the  ark.  All  will 
be  well,  all  will  be  safely  guided  to  the  haven  of  secu- 
rity and  rest.  Innumerable,  in  past  ages,  have  been 
his  providential  interpositions,  in  order  that  while  an- 
cient empires  were  breaking  up,  and  new  dynasties 
were  rearing,  and  when  the  wild  revolutions  of  unset- 
tled multitudes  were  overthrowing  the  established  or- 
der of  things,  the  church,  bought  with  His  own  blood, 
might  be  carried  safely  and  gloriously  through  all  such 
turmoils,  up  towards  the  eminence  he  had  himself 
chosen  for  her,  and  onwards  to  the  victories  he  had 
determined  she  should  achieve.  "  The  hill  of  God  is 
as  the  hill  of  Bashan ;  an  high  hill,  as  the  hill  of  Ba- 
shan.  Why  leap  ye,  ye  high  hills?  this  is  the  hill 
which  God  desire th  to  dwell  in ;  yea,  the  Lord  will 
dwell  in  it  forever." 

The  peculiar  signs  of  the  present  times  call  loudly 
on  all  sections  of  the  Christian  church  to  stand  forth, 
not  merely  to  testify  for,  but  to  protect  Christian  in- 
stitutions. There  is  certainly  danger  threatened  to 
the  ark  of  God,  as  well  as  the  safety  of  the  common- 
wealth.    There  are  shakings  in  chijrches  as  well  as  in 


MOUNT    ZION.  323 

nations,  which  may  cause  fools  in  both  to  learn  wis- 
dom, as  they  make  wise  and  good  men  reflective  and 
prayerful.  Truly  there  are  reasons  why  men  should 
both  fear  and  tremble.  Before  our  eye  is  the  dark 
proscenium  to  some  "  strange  work"  of  God.  Per- 
adventure  divine  justice  rises  to  be  avenged  on  those 
nations  that  have  forsaken  him.  And  shall  Great 
Britain  escape  ?  Let  us  reflect  on  the  former  judg- 
ments of  privileged  kingdoms.  Let  us  remember  that 
even  Israel  was  cast  away  ;  that  a  period  came  in  his 
history  when  he  was  blind  to  the  signs  of  the  times; 
and  before  his  eyes  were  opened  the  Romans  had 
sacked  his  city,  undermined  his  temple,  and  butch- 
ered his  children.  Let  us  remember  that  the  Goth 
and  the  Vandal  overran  the  huge  empire  of  the 
CaBsars,  and  utterly  dismembered  "  the  Niobe  of  na- 
tions ;"  and  that  the  unprincipled  master  spirit  of  an 
age  scarcely  closed  upon  us,  lived  to  see  that  mighty 
fabric  fall,  which  his  fearful  ambition  had  upreared. 
Britain  is  in  the  zenith  of  her  glory !  Her  armies 
have  spread  terror  over  the  earth,  and  her  navies  have 
subdued  the  pride  of  potentates.  Her  treasures  lie  in 
glittering  heaps  to  tempt  the  avarice  of  despotism ; 
and  her  cities  proclaim  afar  the  rising  splendor  of  her 
sun.  Science  has  made  choice  of  her  to  rear  a  death- 
less fame  out  of  the  deep,  stern  intellect  of  her  sons. 
Art  has  laid  the  foundations  of  his  monument  within 
her  rocky  bed,  to  perpetuate  the  achievements  of  his 
mighty  ingenuity ;  while  Literature  assists  both  Art 
and  Science  to  stamp  upon  the  favored  spot  a  splendid 
immortality.  Such  now  is  Britain ;  but  will  she  so 
continue ;  and  how  long  ?  Heaven  only  knows.  For 
all  that  we  can  tell,  the  hour  may  come  when  desola- 
tion shall  blot  out  every  memory  of  the  past,  and 
when,  in  the  convulsive  agonies  of  an  ending  era,  her 


324  MOUNT    ZION. 

very  name  may  perish  amid  the  conflagration  that 
brings  her  glory  to  the  dust. 

If  our  country  would  escape  from  these  menacing 
judgments,  she  must  flee  to  the  ark  of  God.  The  re- 
ligion of  the  cross  is  her  only,  as  it  will  be  her  sure  de- 
fence. And  in  order  to  win  her  over  to  this,  the  grand 
palladium  of  her  best  and  dearest  treasure,  the  church 
of  God  must  be  up  and  doing.  By  our  prayers  and 
exertions,  we  must  labor  to  give  the  ascendancy  to  pure 
and  undefiled  religion.  Our  stand  must  be  made  upon 
the  truths  of  the  Bible  ;  and  all  our  movements  must 
be  guided  by  their  spirit,  and  directed  to  secure  their 
extension  and  influence.  And  if  it  should  please  God 
to  bless  our  exertions,  and  to  answer  our  prayers,  then 
may  we  hope  that  the  dark  cloud  now  hanging  over  us 
may  pass  away,  and  instead  of  judgments,  mercy  may 
descend  to  revive  and  quicken  us  in  the  midst  of  the 
years. 

By  all,  then,  that  is  awful  in  the  voice  of  God,  which 
has  been  heard  in  the  economies  of  far  back  ages,  as 
well  as  in  that  of  modern  periods  of  the  church's  his- 
tory; by  all  that  is  persuasive  in  that  voice  which 
speaks  in  the  still  and  gentle  accents  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament oracle  ;  by  all  that  is  affecting  in  that  voice 
which  descends  from  the  altars  where  cur  fathers  wor- 
shipped ;  by  all  that  is  solemn  in  that  voice  which 
comes  through  the  flames,  and  flows  towards  us  with 
the  blood  of  martyrdom ;  and  by  all  that  is  terrible  and 
appalling  in  that  voice  which  issues  from  the  shores  of 
Christless,  Sabbathless,  churchless  lands  ;  by  considera- 
tions such  as  these,  we  would,  in  concluding,  beseech 
you  who  are  called  by  the  holy  name  of  Christ,  "  to 
present  .your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy  and  accept- 
able unto  God,  which  is  your  reasonable  service,"  every 
Sabbath  within  the  wails  of  his  temple.     O !  let  it 


MOUNT    ZION.  325 

never  be  said  that  superstition  can  convene  her  tens  of 
thousands  to  bow  the  knee  to  Baal ;  that  Paganism 
can  gather  her  worshippers  from  all  the  ends  of  the 
east,  and  drag  them  over  burning  sands  to  pay  their 
vows  to  monstrous  images ;  that  infidelity  can  secure 
to  itself  the  thronged  audience,  only  to  be  destroyed 
by  its  venom  ;  that  the  temples  of  fashion,  and  the  re- 
sorts of  pleasure  can  be  nightly  crowded  by  deluded 
mortals  who,  in  the  giddy  maze,  are  losing  the  realities 
of  life  to  grapple  with  the  shadow  of  death ;  that  fanat- 
icism can  perform  her  wild  and  ofttimes  disgusting 
dramas  before  her  numerous  victims,  now  delirious  with 
her  poison,  and  now  writhing  beneath  her  scorpion  lash  ; 
and  that  the  arena  where  this  world's  politics  are  dis- 
cussed, can  at  all  times  depend  upon  its  multitudes  of 
gaping,  gasconading  enthusiasts  ; — let  not  these  things 
be  said,  while  Piety  is  left  to  weep  over  her  deserted 
altars  and  desecrated  shrines  ;  while  Reason,  illumined 
and  sanctified  by  Christianity,  in  vain  associates  with 
Religion  to  tempt  you  within  the  gates  of  Jerusalem ; 
and  while  the  free  and  elevated  genius  of  the  gospel 
fails  to  inspire  you  with  that  zeal  for  its  sacred  inter- 
ests, which  even  heathenism  can  enkindle,  and  with 
that  reverence  for  its  ark  and  covenant  which  is  not 
awanting  where  the  temples  are  dedicated  to  idols, 
where  the  priests  are  besotted  with  sensuality,  and 
where  the  oracles  are  so  many  mouths  of  the  father  of 
lies  I 


MOUNT  ZION  IN  HEAVEN, 


THE    HOME   OF    THE    RIGHTEOUS 


The  aids  of  geography,  and  the  descriptions  of  travel- 
lers, have  been  our  guides  in  pointing  out  the  localities 
and  peculiarities  of  the  Mountains  already  ascended. 
But  we  have  now  conrie  to  "mount  Zion,  and  unto 
the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem," 
where  the  principles  of  geography  are  inapplicable,  and 
from  which  no  traveller  has  ever  returned  to  tell  us 
either  where  it  is,  or  what  are  its  distinguishing  feat- 
ures.^' Moses  and  Elijah,  as  we  have  seen,  once  re- 
appeared in  this  old  world  after  centuries  of  beatified 
existence  in  heaven,  but  they  told  us  nothing  whatever 
of  the  secrets  of  this  happy  home  ;  all  we  know  of  their 
discourse  is,  that  it  related  to  the  decease  which  the 
Saviour  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem.  The  apostle 
Paul  was  "  caught  up  to  the  third  heaven,"  and  saw 
and  heard  many  wonderful  things;  but  the  seal  of 
secrecy  was  stamped  upon  his  lips,  so  that  on  his  re- 
turn to  the  earth  he  maintained  an  unbroken  silence, 
declaring  that  "  it  was  not  lawful  for  a  man  to  utter" 
what  he  had  been  privileged  to  see  and  hear.  In  form- 
ing our  ideas,  therefore,  of  heaven,  we  must  be  guided 

*  Rev.  iv.  1  ;  Heb.  xii.  22. 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  327 

solely  by  the  general  hints  of  Scripture,  and  more  espe- 
cially by  the  figurative  descriptions  of  the  apostle  John, 
who  in  apocalyptic  vision  had  revealed  to  him,  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  some  of  those  glorious  sights  of  the  future 
state  of  blessedness,  from  which  we  are  to  draw  our  in- 
ferences of  its  nature  and  enjoyments.  The  visions  of 
the  beloved  apostle  are,  however,  not  to  be  literally  or 
strictly  understood.  To  what  extent  many  of  them 
may  be  found  to  be  actually  true,  no  man  knoweth ; 
but  we  are  only  at  liberty  to  use  them  as  conveying 
to  our  minds  great  abstract  truths  upon  the  subject  of 
the  glorified  life  of  saintship.  By  the  humble  use  of 
these  we  acquire  all  needful  knowledge  for  our  present 
condition,  and  for  inspiring  us  with  ardent  wishes  to 
find  our  souls  at  death  on  that  mount  Zion  where  "  the 
Lamb  stands."  Having,  then,  already  walked  round 
about  the  earthly  Zion,  and  considered  some  of  her 
palaces  and  towers,  let  us,  with  all  becoming  diffidence, 
now  ascend  by  faith,  and  in  the  light  of  revelation,  to 
the  city  which  is  an  heavenly,  and  meditate  for  a  sea- 
son amid  its  unparalleled  glories.  Into  such  an  exer- 
cise let  us  beware  of  admitting  any  earthly  or  pre- 
sumptuous sentiments.  Here,  if  anywhere,  we  are 
upon  holy  ground,  and  now,  if  ever,  we  ought  to  put 
off  our  shoes  from  our  feet ;  and  may  it  be  our  earnest 
desire  that,  while  we  thus  muse,  the  fire  of  holy  aspira- 
tions after  celestial  blessedness  may  burn  within  us  ! 
In  prosecuting  the  subject  we  shall,  first  of  all,  make 
a  few  general  observations  on  the  future  state  of  bless- 


328 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 


PART  I. 

THE   FUTURE    STATE   OF   BLESSEDNESS. 

THE    PLACE    ITSELF CHRISt's    FATHEr's    HOUSE PURGATORY. 

Our  knowledge  of  a  future  state  is  derived  from  the 
Bible.  Reason,  on  this  point,  does  nothing  but  form 
conjectures.  That  there  is  an  innate  longing  after  im- 
mortality in  man,  is  true ;  but  the  mere  desire  for  it 
does  not  prove  that  the  soul  is  immortal.  On  this  to 
us  most  interesting  subject,  revelation  substitutes  cer- 
tainty for  probability.  It  is  especially  the  glory  of  the 
gospel,  that  in  it  Jesus  Christ  brings  life  and  immor- 
tality to  light.  And  not  only  is  the  doctrine  clearly 
revealed,  but  in  the  scriptures  there  are  many  minute, 
though,  withal,  figurative  descriptions  of  the  very  place 
in  the  other  world  where  that  immortality  is  to 
be  enjoyed.  There  is  no  such  topographical  descrip- 
tion certainly,  as  entitles  us  to  say  precisely  in  whaj; 
particular  region  of  the  universe  of  God  heaven  is  to 
be  found ;  but  we  have  enough  to  justify  the  belief 
that  there  is  such  a  place,  and  that  it  possesses  those 
inalienable  privileges  which  are  indicated  by  the  mode 
of  reference  to  them  employed  by  the  holy  penmen. 

The  belief  of  the  actual  existence  of  such  a  glori- 
ous locality  exerts  a  most  beneficial  influence  on  the 
mind,  and  it  must  on  that  account  be  exceedingly  use- 
ful to  have  the  evidences  of  it  clearly  ascertained. 
There  is  perhaps  no  truth  more  directly  instrumental 
in  sanctifying  the  soul  than  this,  that  a  rest  remains  for 
the  people  of  God ;  hence  they  who  cherish  such  a  hope 
are  enjoined  and  expected  to  purify  themselves,  even 
as  Christ  is  pure,     It  does  not  necessarily  take   from 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  329 

the  force  of  this  truth,  as  a  sanctifying  eiement  in  the 
hand  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  we  have  no  precise  inti- 
mation of  the  very  spot  where  heaven  is  to  be  found. 
Divine  faith  does  not  feel  itself  at  all  hampered  or 
confined  from  the  absence  of  such  specific  informa- 
tion. As  far  as  his  delightful  meditations  on  heaven 
are  concerned,  it  does  not  much  matter  to  the  believer 
whether  he  conceives  of  his  celestial  house  as  far,  far 
away  in  some  awfully  remote  region  of  the  universe  of 
his  God,  or  as  constructed  so  near  to  him  as,  that  if 
his  eyes  were  opened,  he  would,  like  the  servant  of  the 
prophet  of  old,  see  himself  surrounded  with  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  invisible  world.  It  is  enough  to  know, 
that  wherever  it  be  situated,  heaven  is,  and  must  be, 
where  Christ  reigns,  and  where  he  is  continually  re- 
ceiving the  adorations  of  celestial  beings.  We  know 
that  in  his  human  nature  he  left  this  world ;  we  infer 
therefore  that  he  still  wears  it,  and  that  it  is  visible  in 
some  fortunate  and  blissful  abode.  We  also  know  that 
there  are  saints  in  heaven,  Enoch,  Moses,  and  Elijah, 
whose  bodies  are  made  like  unto  Christ's  glorious  body 
and  that  those  also  who  rose  from  their  graves  after 
Christ's  resurrection,  are  all  with  him.  Though  per- 
fected in  glory,  still  their  bodies  require  space  in  which 
to  live,  and  move,  and  have  their  being ;  and  the  re- 
gion of  space  occupied  by  them  is  what  we  designate 
Heaven. 

Nothing  so  much  tends  to  sweeten  to  the  Christian 
the  idea  of  death,  as  to  associate  with  it  the  idea  of 
heaven,  into  which  at  death  he  is  immediately  received ; 
and  nothing  so  powerfully  recommends  the  idea  of 
heaven  to  us,  as  to  think  of  it  under  those  homely 
figures  which  our  Lord  himself  employed,  when  direct- 
ing the  attention  of  his  disciples  to  it.  He  had  been 
there.     He  was  indeed  the  divine  proprietor,  and  was 


830  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

therefore  qualified  to  adapt  his  account  of  it  not  only 
to  what  he  knew  was,  in  the  abstract,  perfectly  true 
respecting  its  nature  and  blessedness,  but  to  the  modes 
of  thinking  and  feeling  on  such  a  solenm  theme,  which 
might  be  appropriate  to  the  sanctified  condition  of  his 
people  in  this  world.  Thus,  when  comforting  his  dis- 
ciples, in  the  prospect  of  his  leaving  them,  he  does  not 
indulge  himself  in  any  of  those  grand  and  imposing 
metaphors,  which  are  employed  in  some  parts  of 
the  Book  of  Revelation,  to  describe  the  splendors  of 
that  place.  The  figure  of  speech  used  on  that  occa- 
sion is  exquisitely  simple,  but  touching  and  eloquent.* 
He  tells  them  that  his  Father  has  a  "  a  house,"  a 
house  of  ''  many  mansions  ;"  that  he  is  "  going  away" 
to  stay  there  ;  that  when  he  is  there,  he  will  "prepare 
a  place"  in  that  house  for  them ;  that  when  he  has 
prepared  it,  he  will  come  and  announce  to  them  that 
all  is  ready  for  their  reception  ;  that  he  will  then  carry 
them  along  with  him  to  the  spacious  dwelling ;  and 
that  there  he  and  they  will  live  together  through  un- 
ending ages. 

Such  is  a  summary  of  the  rich,  though  homely 
ideas,  suggested  by  this  metaphor.  Let  the  devout 
mind  take  up  with  these  ideas ;  let  them  be  seriously 
pondered  in  all  their  different  bearings  on  the  felicities 
of  which  our  natures  are  capable,  and  after  which  we 
have  strong  innate  longings,  and  the  result  must  be 
satisfactory ;  yea,  very  likely,  it  will  be  most  delight- 
ful. Far  be  it  from  us  to  hint  even,  that  there  is  any- 
thing approaching  to  extravagant  painting  in  those 
more  gorgeous  allusions  to  the  Paradisaical  state  which 
we  have  in  other  scriptures  ;  these  are  certainly  very 
sublime,  and  they  elevate  the  soul ;  but  they  are,  for 
what  we  may  call  the  ordinary  purposes  of  cheering 

♦  John  xiv.  2. 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  331 

the  hearts  of  God's  people  in  the  prospect  of  eternity, 
not  absolutely  necessary,  and  perhaps  too  resplendent, 
too  dazzling  for  the  weak  vision  of  the  saints  in  this 
lower  world.  It  certainly  is  becoming  in  the  Lord  of 
heaven,  when  he  speaks  of  his  own  kingdom  and  pal- 
ace, to  employ  such  phraseology  as  will  suggest  the 
idea  of  unparalleled  glory  ;  and  when  we,  in  our  med- 
itations, approach  the  august  theme  of  that  promised 
rest,  it  must  be  for  edification  that  we  have  our  minds 
sometimes  overawed  in  the  presence  of  its  imposing 
grandeur.  But  the  meek  and  lowly  Saviour  knew 
that  with  the  glittering  arrays  of  regal  pomp,  his  sim- 
ple-minded disciples  were  but  little,  if  at  all  acquainted ; 
therefore,  when  desiring  to  compose  their  troubled 
hearts  with  some  idea  of  heaven,  he  uses  the  plain  and 
ordinary  simile  of  a  house  ;  in  other  words,  of  a  home, 
a  father's  home,  where  there  would  be  security,  abund- 
ance, and  perpetuity  of  bliss ;  where  their  unpretend- 
ing views  would  never  be  abashed  by  disclosures  of 
unapproachable  dignities,  and  where  their  affectionate 
natures  would  be  constantly  gratified  by  the  pleasing 
intercourses  of  domesticated  life. 

Of  the  endearments  of  home  every  bosom  is  cogni- 
zant ;  and  perhaps  there  is  not  another  metaphor  which 
so  happily  combines  in  it  all  that  is  essentially  peace- 
ful, and  all  that  is  sacredly  venerated.  You  will  find 
ten  thousand  hearts  that  will  leap  for  very  joy,  when 
an  appeal  is  made  to  the  associations  of  a  father's 
house ;  you  will  find  comparatively  few  upon  whom 
the  reference  to  courts,  and  crowns,  and  palaces,  would 
have  any  such  effect.  All  our  knowledge  of  such  high 
earthly  places  disposes  us  rather  to  think  of  them  as 
either  invaded  by  the  maxims  and  practices  of  impiety, 
or  pervaded  by  restless  discontent  and  envy.  Hence 
the  kindness,  as  well  as  the  wisdom  of  the  Saviour's 


332  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

mode  of  teaching  his  disciples  to  think  of  heaven  as  his 
"  Father's  house." 

We  have  said  that,  at  the  period  of  their  death,  be- 
lievers are  immediately  received  into  this  house.  By 
this  we  mean,  that  they  are  no  sooner  dead  in  one 
sense,  than  they  are  glorified  in  another.  Instantly  on 
the  soul's  leaving  the  body  does  it  occupy  its  mansion 
in  Christ's  Father's  house.  In  other  words,  there  is  no 
intermediate  place  of  existence.  If  a  man  dies  in 
Christ  Jesus,  he  goes  to  Christ  Jesus  at  once.  If  he 
dies  in  his  sins,  he  goes  immediately  to  "  his  own 
place."  In  opposition  to  this  view,  the  Papists  plead 
for  a  purgatory,  the  name  they  give  to  that  interme- 
diate place  into  which  the  souls  of  departed  men  go 
after  death.  But  the  very  reason  assigned  for  the 
necessity  of  such  a  consignment  of  the  soul,  is  suffi- 
cient to  divest  the  doctrine  of  all  claim  to  our  regards. 
They  commit  the  soul  to  purgatory,  that  it  may  re- 
ceive some  kind  of  final  punishment  or  discipline,  pre- 
vious to  its  reception  into  heaven,  or  that  it  may  be 
purged  of  all  its  remanent  corruptions,  which  it  were 
not  lawful  to  carry  into  heaven. 

Here  is  a  contrivance  which  you  will  at  once  ob- 
serve contradicts  many  scriptures,  but  especially  which 
goes  far  to  destroy  the  efficacy  of  our  Lord's  propitia- 
tory sacrifice.  There  must  surely  be  something  de- 
fective both  in  the  atoning  work  of  Christ,  and  in  the 
sanctifying  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  when,  after  death, 
priests  and  people  must  say  masses,  and  contribute 
sums  of  money  to  the  church,  before  God's  people  can 
get  to  heaven.  "What  a  degrading  view  does  such  an 
idea  give  us  of  the  whole  mediatorial  service,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  faithfulness  and  love  of  the  Father  !  Upon 
the  supposition  of  such  an  intermediate  place  of  purga- 
tion, to  which,  by  some  unsanctified  laws  of  spiritual 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  333 

quarantine,  the  happy  spirits  of  the  saints  are  con- 
veyed, and  where  they  must  abide,  as  in  lazaretto,  till 
the  certifications  of  their  readiness  to  enter  heaven  are 
made  by  some  cunning  and  avaricious  priests — upon 
such  a  supposition,  their  possession  of  heaven  is  after  all 
hazardous.  They  may  never  see  it.  They  are  at  the 
mercy  of  their  surviving  friends,  who  may  be  so  wicked 
as  never  to  pray  for  their  safe  passage  out  of  purgatory, 
or  so  sordid  as  never  to  pay  what  the  Catholic  church 
demands  as  the  fare  of  carrying  souls  from  the  purify- 
ing fires  of  purgatory  into  the  light  and  peace  of  Para- 
dise. Besides,  the  prayers  of  the  priests  may  be  given 
or  withheld,  may  be  cold  or  fervent,  just  as  the  parties 
are  more  or  less  disposed  to  be  generous  in  their  pecu- 
niary gifts.  The  whole,  indeed,  is  a  monstrous  con- 
struction of  the  man  of  sin  to  increase  his  spiritual 
despotism,  and  enrich  his  secular  treasury.  The  won- 
der is,  that  so  many  thousands  and  millions  of  rational 
beings  should  allow  themselves  to  be  so  easily  deceived, 
and  so  openly  robbed. 

Let  us  be  thankful  that  we  have  not  been  so  taught 
Christ.  Our  faith  in  this  matter  is  subject  to  his  rev- 
elation ;  for  the  traditions  and  commandments  of  men 
we  have  no  manner  of  reverence.  Our  common  Chris- 
tian belief  upon  this  subject  is  expressed  in  such  pas- 
sages as  the  following  :  "  Lord,  remember  me,"  prayed 
the  thief  on  the  cross,  ''  when  thou  comest  into  thy 
kingdom."  "  To-day,"  replied  the  Redeemer,  ''  shalt 
thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise."  "  I  have  a  desire  to 
depart,"  said  Paul,  ''  and  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far 
better  ;"  and  again,  "  We  are  confident  and  willing 
rather  to  be  absent  from  the  body,  and  to  be  present 
with  the  Lord."  In  beautiful  harmony  with  these 
doctrinal  revelations  is  the  prayer  of  the  protomartyr 
Stephen.     We  are  told  that,  just  as  his  spirit  was  de- 


334  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

parting,  the  heavens  were  opened  to  him,  and  he  saw 
Jesus  standing  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  and  that  he 
thus  prayed,  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit ;"  a  prayer, 
from  which  we  must  infer,  that  it  was  the  persuasion 
of  this  eminent  saint  that,  instantly  on  his  death,  his 
spirit  would  be  with  Christ,  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 
Let  us  now  meditate  on  the  nature  of  the  future 
state  of  blessedness,  or  on  the  glorious  privileges  to  be 
enjoyed  there. 


PART   IL 

THE   PRIVILEGES   OF   HEAVEN. 

PERFECTION    IN    KNOWLEDGE HOLINESS HAPPINESS. 

I.  In  heaven  we  shall  have  perfect  knowledge. 
— Here  we  "  see  through  a  glass  darkly."  Here  "  we 
know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part."  These  texts 
describe  the  present  state  of  our  acquaintance,  not  so 
much  with  mere  earthly  sciences,  as  with  the  grander 
classes  of  truth  which  affect  our  moral  and  religious 
destinies.  When  we  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  the  re- 
moval of  our  present  veils  of  ignorance,  we  should  take 
care  that  it  is  not  a  mere  intellectual  gratification  that 
we  expect  in  heaven,  wherein  we  shall  intuitively, 
or  by  easy  and  quick  deductions,  grasp  mighty  truths 
appertaining  to  physical  and  abstract  philosophies. 
There  is  something  more  exalted  than  mere  mind  or 
intellect  in  heaven.  There  is  love  ;  and  the  love  of  the 
mind  to  God — to  God,  who  is  love.     We  are  rational 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  335 

beings,  and  God  is  the  wisest  of  beings  ;  but  we  will 
not  be  attracted  to  him  there  so  much  by  affinity  in 
reason  or  mind  as  by  the  power  of  love.  Hence  our 
most  intense  passion  will  be  the  love  of  knowing  God 
himself.  He  is  an  infinite  excellence,  and  will  afford, 
through  all  eternity,  an  inexhaustible  subject  of  study 
to  the  saints.  On  entering  heaven,  therefore,  they  will 
be  perfected  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  only  thus  far, 
that  all  the  clouds  which  at  present  obscure  what  of 
his  glory  may  by  holy  beings  be  seen,  shall  be  removed. 
The  successive  discoveries  of  that  glory  shall  be  made 
as  the  ages  of  eternity  roll  onwards  ;  though,  ever  as 
they  roll,  must  there  be  a  sense  in  which  the  celestial 
student  may  revive  and  utter  his  mundane  adoration  : 
*'  Verily,  thou  art  a  God  that  hidest  thyself !"  It  must 
ever  continue  to  be  "  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a 
thing,"  and  ever  the  duty  and  delight  of  saints  "  to 
search  out  a  matter,"  even  when  abiding  in  Christ's 
Father's  house. 

Farther,  all  that  is  necessary  for  their  comfort  in 
heaven  will  be  made  known  to  them  there.  They 
shall  have  no  doubts  or  fears  in  reference  to  any  sub- 
ject whatever,  either  connected  with  their  own,  or  with 
the  interests  of  others.  Not  one  particle  of  that  igno- 
rance which  enters  more  or  less  into  every  species  of 
infidelity  is  to  be  found  in  heaven ;  and  so  plainly  and 
satisfactorily  will  all  the  ways  of  God  to  man  on  earth 
be  explained,  that  over  the  remembrance  even  of  their 
most  bitter  adversities  they  will  raise  their  loudest  and 
heartiest  songs  of  gratitude.  To  our  present  ignorance 
of  the  close  connection  subsisting  between  providence 
and  grace,  between  the  events  of  our  lot  and  the  life 
of  our  souls,  may  be  traced  the  gloom  and  melancholy 
which  affliction  carries  in  its  train.  But  in  heaven 
we  shall  see  these  connections :  we  shall  have  a  vision 


336  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

of  God's  mode  of  linking  our  then  beatified  state  with 
these  vicissitudes  of  time.  The  revolutions  of  all  the 
larger  and  smaller  wheels  in  the  system  of  Providence, 
by  which  were  produced  the  mightiest,  and  to  us  most 
resplendent  results,  will  be  seen  as  clearly  and  fully 
as  we  now  follow  out  the  simplest  mechanical  pro- 
cesses. In  a  word,  we  shall  have  in  heaven  no  improper 
ideas  upon  any  subject  whatever ;  our  minds  will  never 
be  pre-occupied  by  what  subsequent  study  is  to  dis- 
card ;  and  though  perpetually  adding  to  our  stores  of 
sublime  information,  we  shall  never  lose  what  has  been 
already  attained.  It  may  be  prop(ir  for  a  saint  on  earth 
to  forget  "the  things  that  are  behind,"  that  he  may 
all  the  sooner  '•  reach  forth  to  those  things  which  are 
before."  This  is  a  consequence  of  his  imperfect 
knowledge;  it  is  because  he  does  not  "count  himself 
to  have  apprehended."  But  a  saint  in  heaven,  though 
illimitable  fields  and  unfathomable  oceans  of  truth  ever 
lie  before  him,  never  requires  to  obliterate  the  past  to 
facilitate  his  progress.  In  this  respect  he  has  "  already 
attained,"  and  is  already  "perfect;"  therefore,  remem- 
bering all  the  things  that  are  behind,  he  is  at  the  same 
time  continually  treasuring  up  more  and  more  invalu- 
able intellectual  and  spiritual  stores.  So  perfect,  in- 
deed, are  his  attainments  in  glory,  that  one  saint, 
speaking  by  inspiration  for  all  the  rest,  says,  "  For 
now  we  see  through  a  glass,  darkly ;  but  then  face  to 
face  ;  now  I  know  in  part ;  but  then  shall  I  know  even 
as  also  I  am  known." 

11.  In  heaven  we  shall  have  perfect  holiness. — 
In  the  Book  of  Revelation  heaven  is  called  "  the  holy 
Jerusalem ;"  concerning  which  city  it  is  affirmed  that 
"  there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  anything  that 
defile tb,  neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination,  nor 
maketh  a  lie."     An  apostle  also  enjoins  us  to  "  follow 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  337 

holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord ;" 
and  our  blessed  Redeemer  repeatedly  assures  us  that 
"  unless  a  man  be  born  again,  of  water  and  of  the 
Spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
The  life  of  a  believer,  then,  must  necessarily  be  a 
perfecting  of  holiness  "  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,"  or  a 
growing  assimilation  to  the  divine  image,  accompa- 
nied with  hearty  obedience  to  this  commandment : 
"  Sanctify  yourselves,  and  be  ye  holy :  for  I  am  the 
Lord  your  God."  As  the  final  result  of  the  whole 
preparatory  process  here,  we  are  assured  that  at  death 
the  Saviour  shall  present  us  to  his  Father,  "a  glorious 
church,  not  having  spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing," 
but  "  holy,  and  without  blemish." 

The  souls  of  believers,  then,  are,  from  these  scrip- 
tures, evidently  made  perfect  in  holiness  when  they 
enter  heaven.  This  is  a  prerequisite  to  their  presence 
in,  and  enjoyment  of  heaven.  It  is  a  prerequisite  to 
their  actual  presence  in  it.  Had  they  one  spot  or 
wrinkle  left  they  should  never  pass  through  its  blessed 
portals  ;  and,  even  on  the  supposition  of  their  getting 
within  its  walls,  that  spot  and  that  wrinkle  would 
completely  incapacitate  them  from  enjoying  it.  There 
would  be  no  need  for  external  force  to  drive  them  out 
again ;  they,  themselves,  by  internal  consciousness  of 
unfitness  for  the  place,  and  of  dislike  to  all  in  it  and 
about  it,  would  speedily  seek  other  and  more  congenial 
resorts.  In  order,  then,  to  be  made  capable  of  enjoy- 
ino^  it,  the  saints  are  made  perfectly  holy  on  entering 
it.  Whatever  may  be  their  imperfections  up  to  the 
article  of  death ;  whatever  erroneous  viev^s  they  may 
have  then,  either  of  God,  of  heaven,  or  of  themselves ; 
whatever  infirmity  of  temper  or  disposition  may  be 
found  cleaving  to  them  ;  that  moment  they  die,  away, 
far  and  forever  away  from  their  emancipated  souls  flee 


y38  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

all  the  remnants  of  their  fall.  All  the  faculties  of 
their  mind  reach  maturity,  and  resume  their  proper 
place  in  relation  to  the  law  of  God  ;  all  their  affections 
are  at  once  properly  adjusted  and  centred  on  Him  who 
demands  the  heart  of  every  creature,  and  who  never 
fully  gets  that  demand  from  saints  till  they  are  glori- 
fied. By  the  burden  of  sin  here,  the  souls  of  his  peo- 
ple are  ever  to  some  degree  oppressed ;  hence  they 
cannot  fly  away  far  hence  and  be  with  Christ.  But 
when  their  souls  become  sinless,  they  take  wings  at 
once,  and  of  their  own  accord  they  hie  them  off  to 
God's  right  hand. 

The  glorified  spirit  knows  its  own  home ;  and  though 
now  we  may  speculate  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Para- 
dise, we  cease  to  do  so  when  we  are  absent  from  the 
body.  Then,  by  the  holy  instinctiveness  of  our  per- 
fection, we  at  once  take  the  direction  of  heaven,  and 
instantly  we  lie  in  the  bosom  of  Redeeming  Love. 
We  sometimes  gratify  ourselves  with  the  thought, 
that  our  souls  at  death  will  not  feel  at  all  abashed,  as 
if  in  a  strange  state,  or  ignorant  of  the  way  upward  ; 
and  that  we  shall  be  favored  with  the  presence  and 
guidance  of  angels  in  our  passage  through  the  heavens 
to  the  heaven  of  heavens.  It  may  be  so  that  we  shall 
be  thus  escorted  to  our  Father's  house  ;  but  methinks 
a  ransomed  spirit  would  find  its  way  to  such  a  home 
without  any  attendant  whatever.  The  very  perfection 
of  its  holiness,  binding  it  as  it  does  to  the  heart  of 
Jesus,  and  fascinating  it  towards  Him  from  whom  all 
holiness  flows,  would  draw  it  directly  into  his  blessed 
and  adorable  presence.  It  is  here,  in  this  cold,  damp, 
dismal  clime,  that  the  believer  feels  himself  at  a  loss 
sometimes  to  know  the  way.  Here  only  it  is  that  ho 
ever  feels  himself  a  stranger  and  foreigner.  When  he 
dies,  all  these  feelings  die  with   him.     He  is  made 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  339 

perfect  in  holiness ;  consequently,  he  is  at  no  loss 
what  to  do,  where  to  go,  or  how  to  travel.  So  true 
is  this,  that  holiness  perfected  is  instantaneous  with 
Jesus  beheld  and  adored. 

What  a  beautiful  place,  then,  must  heaven  be ! 
There  is  no  sin  in  it ;  not  a  particle,  not  a  shade  of 
sin  will  be  found  there.  Everything  there  will  be 
holy  as  God  is  holy.  All  the  skies  will  be  cloudless ; 
all  the  mansions  will  be  complete  ;  all  the  people  will 
be  pure ;  all  the  minds  and  all  the  morals  will  per- 
fectly and  brilliantly  reflect  the  image  of  the  Holy 
One ;  all  the  songs  and  all  the  services  will  have  on 
them  and  in  them  "  Holiness  to  the  Lord,"  not  in 
golden  letters,  but  in  the  deep,  ardent,  and  overawing 
emotions  of  consummate  devotion.  Hence,  far  hence 
are  banished  all  feelings  that  jar  with  the  glorified 
brotherhood.  No  selfish  interests  can  obtrude,  no  angry 
passions  can  arise,  no  difference  of  opinions  can  inter- 
rupt the  steady,  stately  flow  of  heaven's  high  harmo- 
nies. Hence,  far,  far  hence  are  the  influences  of  Sa- 
tan. He  can  never  enter  here,  nor  any  of  his  emissa- 
ries of  evil.  The  "  beauties  of  holiness"  in  God,  and 
the  reflection  of  these  in  the  saints,  are  the  fortifica- 
tions of  heaven.  These  are  walls  which  devils  cannot 
scale.  Not  only,  then,  are  all  holy,  but  holy  all  shall 
forever  abide.  Henceforth,  in  the  presence  of  the  Holy 
One  of  Israel,  and  collegiated  with  holy  angels,  they 
shall  dwell  together  iir  the  perfect  consciousness  that 
in  their  future  history  the  scenes  of  the  first  Eden 
shall  never  be  re-illustrated ;  that  they  shall  neither 
sin  any  more,  nor  suffer  any  more ;  for  the  days  of 
their  sinning  are  ended. 

ni.  In  heaven  we  shall  have  perfect  happi- 
ness.— Nothing  else  can  be  expected  from  a  state  of 
perfect  knowledge  and  holiness.     These  are  the  two 


340  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

great  elements  in  the  peace  and  joy  of  believing.  We 
come  on  earth  to  know  Christ  as  "of  God,  made  unto 
us  righteousness,"  and  also  "  sanctification ;"  hence  we 
have  peace  with  God,  and  purity  within.  In  heaven 
we  attain  to  the  perfection  of  our  appreciation  and  en- 
joyment of  Christ,  and  to  the  perfection  of  our  holi- 
ness through  his  blood  and  Spirit ;  hence,  also,  our 
consummated  happiness  there.  It  is  the  design  of 
the  gospel  to  restore  man  to  God ;  that  is,  to  the  image 
and  friendship  of  God,  both  of  which  he  lost  in  the 
fall ;  that  is,  by  sin  he  lost  the  knowledge  of  God, 
and  by  sin  he  lost  the  favor  of  God.  These  two 
losses  constituted  him  a  wretched  and  miserable  being. 
Things  must,  therefore,  remain  with  him  as  they  are, 
unless  he  avail  himself  of  the  gospel  proposals.  If  he 
believes  in  the  mediatorial  work  of  Christ,  then  he  is 
placed  on  the  sure  and  certain  way  of  a  re-establish- 
ment in  innocence  and  comfort ;  and  when  he  dies,  be 
finds  himself  re-conformed  to  God's  image,  and  re- 
installed into  God's  love.  He  is,  therefore,  perfectly 
happy  again.  He  needs  no  more  than  this  to  fill  him 
with  celestial  joy.  From  this  moment  he  is  not,  and 
cannot  be,  in  any  sense,  subject  to  the  consequences 
of  sin.  We  do  not  say  he  is  as  happy  now  as  if  he 
never  had  sinned ;  but  we  say,  that  it  may  be  he  is 
happier.  For  now,  not  only  does  all  the  primeval  joy 
of  conscious  holiness,  as  a  rational  creature  of  God, 
come  back  upon  him  in  its  full* strength,  but  added  to 
this,  he  feels  himself  the  glorified  subject  of  God's 
wonderful  mercy  in  Christ  Jesus.  Again  is  he  a  holy 
creature  ;  but  now  he  is  holy  as  one  of  the  "  ran- 
somed of  the  Lord."  Surely,  then,  if  even  on  earth 
the  mere  hope  of  mercy  made  him  so  happy  amid  all 
the  imperfections  and  trials  of  time,  in  heaven  the  full 
possession  of  life,  glory,  and  immortality,  in  the  pres- 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  341 

ence  of  God  and  the  Lamb,  must  perfect  his  blessed- 
ness. 

In  describing  that  blesedness,  the  scriptures  use  a 
great  number  of  figures.  Some  of  these  present  us 
with  a  negative,  and  others  with  a  positive  view  of  the 
subject.  In  the  class  of  negative  descriptions,  we 
find  that  there  is  to  be  in  heaven  exemption,  total  and 
forever,  from  all  manner  of  evil.  ''  God  shall  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  their  eyes ;  and  there  shall  be  no 
more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither  shall 
there  be  any  more  pain:  for  the  former  things  are 
passed  away."  "  And  there  shall  be  no  more  curse." 
"  And  there  shall  be  no  night  there."  "  They  shall 
hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more  ;  neither  shall 
the  sun  light  on  them,  nor  any  heat." 

These  beautiful  passages  intimate  to  us,  that  in 
heaven  anything  in  the  shape  or  of  the  nature  of  evil 
or  suffering  is  impossible.  However  needful  tribula- 
tion may  be  for  militant  saintship,  for  saintship  trium- 
phant it  is  useless.  Tears  and  toils  in  the  lot  of  good 
men  here  serve  out  their  design  when  death  separates 
soul  and  body ;  hence  the  emphasis  of  the  account 
given  of  the  celestial  inhabitants :  •'  These  are  they 
which  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation ;"  let  it  be 
noted,  they  have  "  come  out  of,"  and  are  never  more 
to  be  in  tribulation.  What  wise  or  merciful  purpose 
could  tribulation  serve  now  ?  If  it  kept  them  humble 
and  patient;  if  it  wrought  out  of  them  all  earthly- 
mindedness,  and  constantly  augmented  their  spiritual- 
ity ;  if  it  refined  them  so  purely  that  they  became,  at 
death,  fully  meet  for  the  inheritance  above  ;  what  good 
object  could  it  promote  in  heaven  ?  None  whatever. 
To  afflict  them  still,  after  all  their  chastisements  on 
earth,  would  indicate  either  imperfection  in  the  work 


342  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

of  mediation,  or  wanton  cruelty  and  injustice  in  the 
Almighty. 

But  the  idea  is  profane:  ''all  tears  are  wiped 
AWAY."  Did  they  weep  on  earth  over  their  sins,  espe- 
cially over  their  ingratitude  to  that  dear  Lord  who  had 
bought  them  with  his  blood  ?  Such  tears  cannot  flow 
now;  for  they  are  not  only  sinless,  but  they  know 
that  it  is  impossible  for  them  ever  again  to  sin.  Did 
rivers  of  waters  run  down  their  cheeks  when  they  saw 
the  law  of  God  dishonored  by  abounding  iniquity? 
Such  rivers  cannot  flow  now ;  for  their  eyes  witness 
nothing  in  heaven  but  what  is  glorifying  to  God.  Did 
the  desolations  of  adversity  send  them  to  their  soli- 
tudes, to  weep  over  ruined  fortunes  and  empty  barn- 
yards ?  Such  tears  they  cannot  shed  in  Eden ;  for 
no  storm  ever  gathers  in  its  clime,  and  no  treasure  once 
possessed  there  can  be  either  pilfered  or  consumed. 
Did  they  sometimes  weep  when  staggering  under  the 
dark  menaces  of  future  poverty  to  themselves  and  chil- 
dren, when  realizing  the  terrors  of  calamities  which 
might  never  come  ?  Such  tears  they  cannot  weep  in 
a  land  where  they  have  the  divine  assurance  that  they 
shall  never  want,  and  that  no  evil  of  any  kind,  through 
all  eternity,  shall  ever  approach  them.  Did  they  weep 
over  the  cold  and  heartless  repulses  of  men  once  con- 
sidered their  friends  ?  In  heaven  they  shall  never  form 
an  acquaintance  which  shall  not  be  ripened  into  friend- 
ship, and  never  possess  a  friend  who  shall  not  continue 
so  forever. 

Did  they  weep  over  their  dead  ?  Ay,  and  bitter, 
bitter  tears  these  were,  the  most  burning,  perhaps, 
that  ever  welled  up  from  the  sacred  and  secret  emotions 
of  their  natures.  In  Christ's  Father's  house  they  shall 
never  so  weep  again.  "Why?  Because  there  the 
mother  again  clasps  her  beautiful  babes  to  her  bosom, 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  343 

all  resplendent  in  the  glory  of  that  Saviour  who  car- 
ried them  in  his  arms  thither.  There,  she  who  was 
the  solitary  widow,  and  who  for  long  had  to  tread  the 
melancholy  path  of  immaculate  sorrow  for  the  husband 
of  her  heart,  and  who  perhaps  had  to  accept  of  life's 
coldest  conditions  to  secure  for  herself  and  orphans 
a  piece  of  bread — there,  she  finds  the  desire  of  her 
eyes ;  and,  in  garments  of  white,  they  together  walk 
the  streets  of  the  heavenly  city.  There  the  orphan, 
the  poor,  shivering,  timid  orphan,  who  stood  over  a 
father's  and  a  mother's  grave  or  ere  he  knew  or  could 
appreciate  such  a  loss,  and  who  struggled  on  unbe- 
friended  through  the  battles  and  the  breezes  of  this 
selfish  world,  at  length  beholds  and  luxuriates  in  pa- 
rental love.  There  the  kind  friends,  the  useful  bene- 
factors, the  choice  counsellors,  to  whom  we  have  been 
indebted  during  our  pilgrim  passage  for  many  com- 
forts and  precious  aids,  and  whose  departure  from 
us  to  the  world  of  spirits  has  made  earth  more  gloomy, 
and  life  less  joyous,  shall  again  be  met,  and  again  en- 
joyed. In  a  word,  all  the  blessed  dead  who  have  died 
in  the  Lord  there  meet  again,  and  meet  to  part  no 
more. 

Did  they  weep  over  the  hidings  of  their  Father's 
face,  and  vex  themselves  sorely  because  they  some- 
times sought  him  and  could  not  find  him?  Such 
tears  they  shall  not  shed  again  ;  for  spiritual  darkness 
cannot  exist  where  God  is  seen  face  to  face,  and  where 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  never  goes  down.  Did 
they,  in  fine,  sometimes  weep  for  very  joy,  when  sud- 
den deliverances  were  vouchsafed  from  dreaded  deaths 
and  impending  griefs,  or  when  fountains  of  unex- 
pected mercies  were  opened  upon  them  ?  In  heaven 
it  shall  never  so  be.  They  shall  not  weep  there, 
even  though  the  joy  be  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory. 


344  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

The  falling  of  a  single  tear  tells  that  there  is  a  little 
infirmity  about  the  region  of  the  heart ;  some  small 
fissure  in  the  earthen  vessel  by  whioli  the  over-bur- 
dened spirit  seeks  a  momentary  relief  In  Paradise, 
however,  the  soul  is  equal  to  all  the  joy  with  which  it 
may  be  filled,  and  will  enlarge  its  capacities  for  the 
inletting  of  an  uninterrupted  and  ever-swelling  stream 
of  divine  and  eternal  blessedness. 

But  we  spake  of  a  class  of  blessings  in  heaven  which 
are  of  a  positive  character,  and  which  do  not  so  much 
consist  in  exemption  from  evil  as  in  the  actual  posses- 
sion of  the  richest  treasures  which  our  Saviour  can 
bestow.  To  such  a  theme  who  can  do  justice  ?  We 
do  not  attempt  it.  It  may  just  be  noticed  in  closing 
the  illustration,  that  whatever  is  requisite  to  cany  for- 
ward the  grand  designs  of  redeeming  love  upon  the 
glorified  subjects  of  redeeming  mercy,  will  be  largely 
and  constantly  supplied.  Happiness  then  will  consist 
not  merely  in  their  consciousness  of  the  absence  of  all 
sin  and  sorrow,  but  in  the  presence  and  enjoyment  of 
all  things  and  all  beings  who  can  contribute  to  their 
exquisite  delectation.  It  were  easy  here  to  speak  of 
the  raptures  of  a  saint  who  finds  himself  in  the  very 
presence  of  God  ;  folded  in  the  very  arms  that  were 
once  nailed  to  the  cross  for  him  ;  in  the  society  of  the 
angels,  to  him  a  new  and  valuable  friendship ;  and  in 
circles  of  dearly  beloved  relatives,  singing  the  song  of 
Moses  and  the  Lamb.  But  it  seems  enough  to  men- 
tion, that  in  heaven  saints  shall  actually  see  the  Saviour. 
"  They  shall  see  his  face,"  is  revealed  as  one  of  the  joys 
of  Paradise  ;  and,  surely,  no  other  joy  will  compare 
with  it.  At  present  we  may  feel  as  if  it  would  make 
us  happier  to  see  there  some  whom  we  knew  here  ; 
but  it  will  not  be  so.  Perfect  love  will  seek  first  for 
Him  who  shed  his  blood  for  simiers  ;  and  it  would  be  no 


MOUNT    ZIOi\    IN    HEAVEN.  345 

drawback  to  perfect  happiness  there,  though  the  saint 
should  never  see  any  face  but  His  own.  All  other  sights 
will  be  pleasant  because  His  face  has  been  first  seen. 

But,  after  all,  why  should  we  tarry  in  our  descrip- 
tions of  such  a  state,  upon  the  conceptions  of  fancy 
and  the  appropriateness  of  language  ?  for,  it  is  written, 
"Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  en- 
tered into  the  heart  of  man,  the  things  which  God  hath 
prepared  for  them  that  love  him."  Let  us  then  be- 
lieve in  the  sublime  truth  that  such  a  state  is  abso- 
lutely certain  to  every  good  man,  and  that  if  he  will 
but  possess  his  soul  in  patience  for  a  very  little,  he  will 
speedily  be  in  the  very  midst  of  celestial  bliss.  When 
there,  he  shall  have  plenty  of  everything  that  can  per- 
fectly rejoice  him  ;  plenty  of  light  from  God  and  the 
Lamb,  who  are  the  light  thereof;  plenty  of  nourish- 
ment from  the  tree  of  life,  the  very  leaves  of  which  are 
for  the  healing  of  the  nations ;  plenty  of  society ;  plenty 
of  love  ;  plenty  of  distinguished  service  ;  plenty  of  en- 
nobling and  satisfying  study  ;  and  plenty  of  true  glory 
and  honor.  There  all  the  days  of  his  mourning  are 
ended  ;  and  there  an  existence  of  unending  purity, 
utility,  and  peace,  begins. 


PART  in. 

THE  VOICE   FROM   HEAVEN. 

In  bringing  these  discourses  on  the  Mountains  of  the 
Bible  to  a  conclusion,  it  seems  peculiarly  appropriate 
that  the  appeal  should  come  direct  from  above  to  such 
gospel  hearers  as  are  as  yet  far  from  the  kingdom  of 

15* 


346  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

heaven.  From  the  summits  of  Sinai  and  Zion  such 
men  have  been  already  addressed.  They  have  heard 
the  law — they  have  heard  the  gospel.  Let  them  now 
hear  that  merciful  and  exalted  High  Priest  who  sits 
on  mount  Zion  above,  and  who,  from  his  glorious  throne, 
issues  to  them  this  remarkable  declaration  :  "  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Except  a  man  be  born  again, 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  O,  weighty 
words !  O,  solemn  voice  I  Listen,  ye  that  forget 
God,  to  the  doctrine  herein  taught.  It  is  a  very  simple 
one,  but  its  importance  you  cannot  overestimate.  It 
is  this :  To  be  happy  after  death,  you  must  be  made 
holy  before  it :  ''  you  must  be  born  again." 

And  what  is  implied  in  being  born  again  ?  It  means 
that  your  whole  nature  must  be  changed  by  the  Spirit 
of  God ;  you  must  be  regenerated  or  created  anew 
unto  good  works ;  your  hearts  must  be  purified  by 
faith  ;  your  flesh  must  be  crucified,  with  its  afTections 
and  lusts  ;  you  must  believe  on  the  name  of  the  Son 
of  God.  And  why  is  it  that  you  have  not  as  yet 
undergone  such  a  change  as  this  ?  Taking  the  best 
view  of  your  case,  you  have,  peradventure,  been  de- 
pending on  the  means  of  grace  to  produce  it ;  you  have 
been  settling  down  on  your  lees,  and,  it  may  be,  taking 
it  for  granted  that  your  Christian  profession  places  you 
in  a  Christian  state.  If  it  be  so,  it  is  more  than  time 
that  you  opened  your  eyes  to  the  truth.  The  means 
of  grace  must  be  used,  but  not  absolutely  trusted  to 
as  the  regenerators  of  the  soul.  The  Holy  Ghost  is 
the  regenerator :  "  not  by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by 
my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord."  It  is  indeed  proper  to 
submit  to  the  teaching  of  the  Christian  ministry  ;  but 
neither  that,  nor  Christian  ordinances  in  full,  can  exert 
divine  influence.  It  is  a  thought  alike  humiliating  to 
the  teacher  and  the  taught,  that  no  man  ever  converted 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  347 

his  own  soul  or  the  soul  of  his  fellow-creatures.  To 
the  siege  of  the  natural  man  may  be  carried  the  most 
brilliant  talents  ;  demonstrations  clear  as  axioms  may- 
be submitted ;  treatises  acute  and  unanswerable  may 
be  read  and  assented  to ;  Persuasion  may  lavish  her 
stores  of  melting  entreaty ;  Terror  may  unveil  the 
agonies  she  reserves  for  the  wicked  ;  Justice  may 
brandish  her  flaming  sword ;  Mercy  may  raise  her  be- 
seeching voice ;  Pity  may  drop  her  solicitous  tears ; 
Love  may  unlock  her  affections,  sweeten  her  embraces, 
and  press  her  claims ;  but  if  this  be  all,  the  sinner 
will  remain  wrapped  up  in  the  silence  and  sulleimess 
of  spiritual  death ;  for  it  is  written,  that  "  no  man 
can  say  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  but  by  the  Holy 
Ghost." 

Such  is,  unquestionably,  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible ; 
and  such,  still,  is  the  voice  from  heaven  to  man.  To 
the  unconverted,  then,  let  that  voice  sound  an  alarm. 
The  new  birth  is  from  above.  Be  persuaded  to  look 
to  the  Divine  Spirit  for  such  a  change  ;  and  while  you 
cease  not  to  avail  yourselves  of  every  instituted  help, 
direct  your  waiting  eyes  to  heaven  itself  fo¥  the  bless- 
ing that  makes  these  effectual  to  your  salvation.  Dis- 
regarding, as  you  have  done,  the  necessity  of  the  in- 
fluences of  the  Holy  Ghost,  you  may  cease  to  wonder 
that  the  gospel  has  not  as  yet  been  made  to  you  the 
"  power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God." 

But  it  may  be  that  you  have  known  this  great 
Bible  doctrine,  and  that  you  have  been  perverting  it. 
Too  many,  alas !  do  so,  to  their  ruin.  Sinner,  have 
you  sheltered  yourself  under  the  cavil,  that  if  con- 
version be  the  work  of  God's  Spirit  then  you  are  not 
responsible  for  remaining  in  unregeneracy  ?  If  so, 
suffer  the  word  of  exhortation.  We  do  not  hesitate 
to  declare  that  it  is  your  duty,  notwithstanding,  to 


348  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

secure  your  being  born  again,  in  order  to  enter  at  last 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Yes,  this  is  your  duty.  God 
says  to  you,  "Work  out  your  own  salvation,  with  fear 
and  trembling :  for  it  is  God  which  worketh  in  you, 
both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure."  "  Re- 
pent, and  be  converted."  "  And  this  is  his  command- 
ment. That  we  should  believe  on  the  name  of  his  Son 
Jesus  Christ."  "We  do  not  say  that  such  passages 
enjoin  upon  you  that  you  are  to  convert  your  own 
souls,  but  that  it  is  your  duty  sincerely  to  aim  at  this, 
in  the  use  of  God's  appointed  means,  and  in  depend- 
ence on  the  promise  of  the  Spirit  to  render  them  suc- 
cessful. Taking  the  appropriate  scriptures  together,  it 
is  clearly  taught  in  the  word  of  God  that  unrenewed 
men  must  work,  but  not  irrespective  of  the  divine  aid. 
Hence,  at  the  last  day,  the  wicked  shall  be  condemned, 
not  because  they  could  not,  but  because  they  would 
not  thus  work.  For  the  influence  that  begets  the 
change,  you  are  not  responsible,  but  for  the  proper 
handling  of  the  instrumentalities  appointed  for  that 
end,  you  certainly  are.  What,  for  instance,  hinders 
any  man  within  reach  of  the  gospel  from  going  to  hear 
that  gospel  preached,  from  reading  the  word  of  God, 
from  addressing  God  on  his  knees  often  in  prayer,  or 
from  using  any  of  the  ordinary  means  of  spiritual  in- 
struction ?  There  are  no  impediments,  in  general,  in 
the  way.  Every  man  is  just  as  free  and  able  to  use 
these  with  such  a  view,  as  he  is  to  go  about  his  lawful 
avocations,  or  prosecute  to  a  successful  termination 
any  scheme  of  his  own,  upon  principles  and  with  aids 
proper  to  its  accomplishment.  While,  then,  God  has 
established  a  connection  between  the  sincere  use  of 
these  means  and  your  regeneration,  and  has  promised 
to  make  the  one  effectual  to  the  other,  it  is  your  duty, 
in  this  way,  to  seek  after  your  new  birth ;  and  you 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  349 

neglect  it  at  the  peril  of  being  charged  at  last  with 
refusing  to  be  converted. 

If  any  are  still  disposed  to  prosecute  this  perilous 
cavil,  we  would  direct  their  attention  to  the  case  of 
the  man  who  was  commanded,  though  a  paralytic,  to 
arise  and  walk.  When  he  was  laid  dowTi  at  Christ's 
feet  he  was  physically  powerless.  Had  he  excused 
himself  from  the  attempt,  by  pleading  incapacity,  he 
would  have  remained  uncured.  But  he  heard  the 
order,  and  considering  that  he  had  no  right  to  call  its 
practicability  in  question,  he  proceeded  to  obey  it. 
He  was  cured.  In  the  act  of  obedience,  he  received 
power  from  above.  The  sinner  has  his  lesson  before 
him  here.  Admitting  his  own  unworthiness  and  in- 
ability, let  him  nevertheless  believe  God  to  be  sincere, 
and,  taking  him  at  his  word,  let  him  diligently  work, 
and  the  end  is  as  certain;  he  will  be  "made  a  new 
creature  ;"  he  will  be  put  in  the  way  to  gain  eternal 
life  ;  he  will  be  brought  to  the  feet  of  Christ. 

The  objection  under  review  is  an  infidel  one,  and 
rests  upon  a  principle  which  those  that  use  it  in  things 
spiritual  never  think  of  acting  upon  in  things  tem- 
poral. It  is  equally  true  that  the  labor  of  the  hus- 
bandman cannot  command  the  fruitfuhiess  of  the  earth. 
God's  blessing  alone  can  do  this.  It  is  equally  true 
that,  under  alarming  illness,  no  medicine  has  intrinsic 
power  to  arrest  disease  and  confirm  health.  God's 
blessing  does  this  too.  But  whoever  on  this  account 
would  neglect  the  tilling  and  draining  of  the  fields,  or 
the  scattering  of  the  seed,  or  the  use  of  the  wholesome 
remedy?  And  if  not  in  minor  matters  would  sane 
men  so  act,  why,  in  the  weighty  matters  of  salvation 
and  eternity,  do  they  thus  stultify  and  destroy  them- 
selves? We  have  only  to  remind  God  of  his  gracious 
promise  of  the  Spirit,  and  to  be  very  diligent  in  the 


350  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

use  of  the  means  of  conversion,  and  we  shall  succeed ; 
we  do  not  say  how  soon,  but  in  God's  own  time.  His 
delaying  to  send  down  the  divine  afflatus  to  quicken 
our  hearts  ought  not  to  discourage  us.  God  will  as- 
suredly be  found  of  every  one  that  thus  seeketh  him  ; 
''  for  the  vision  is  yet  for  an  appointed  time,  but  at 
the  end  it  shall  speak,  and  not  lie :  though  it  tarry, 
wait  for  it ;  because  it  wdll  surely  come,  it  will  not 
tarry." 

Let  the  unconverted  ponder  these  serious  truths, 
and  decide  accordingly.  They  cannot  decide  too  soon, 
for  of  one  thing  they  may  be  assured,  that  they  shall 
never  enter  heaven  as  they  are.  They  must  be  born 
again.  Do  any  ask,  where  is  the  necessity  for  this 
change?  With  our  reply  let  us  close  our  remon- 
strances, and  may  the  blessing  of  the  Spirit  accom- 
pany them  ! 

No  human  being  can  be  made  holy  till  ha  is  re- 
generated. Unless  he  is  holy,  he  cannot  see  God.  To 
see  God  is  to  be  in  heaven ;  therefore,  to  be  glorified, 
he  must  first  of  all  be  regenerated  and  sanctified. 
Who  are  these  that  are  already  in  heaven  ?  "  These 
are  they  who  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation,  and 
have  washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb." 

But,  sinner,  the  saints  are  not  only  holy,  they  are 
eminently  useful  beings.  Assuredly  they  are  not  idle 
in  Christ's  Father's  house ;  "  they  rest  not  day  and 
night,  saying.  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty, 
which  was,  and  is,  and  is  to  come."  Now,  in  such 
exercises,  how  could  a  sinful  spirit  engage  ?  It  would 
oppose  every  feeling  of  its  nature ;  especially  would  it 
jar  against  that  selfishness  which  is  the  most  power- 
ful principle  of  its  depravity.  It  would  be  at  a  loss 
what  to  do  with  itself  in  such  society  as  it  would  fin»] 


MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN.  351 

there,  where  benevolence  and  love  are  the  reigning 
and  universal  virtues.  To  the  general  good  all  selfish 
interests  are  subjected.  Such  a  spirit  would  there- 
fore find  itself  alone,  miserably  alone  in  heaven,  hav- 
ing none  to  sympathize,  none  to  associate  with  him. 
The  pure  spirits  of  that  holy  clime  would  desert  him, 
abhor  him ;  and,  in  due  time,  he  would  be  compelled 
to  leave  these  hallowed  mansions,  and  seek  other  re- 
gions congenial  with  his  unsanctified  nature. 

Seeing,  then,  that  men  who  would  be  happy  after 
death  must  be  regenerated,  and  made  progressively 
holy  before  they  die,  O !  "  what  manner  of  persons 
ought  ye  to  be  in  all  holy  conversation  and  godliness  ; 
looking  for,  and  hasting  unto  the  coming  of  the  day 
of  God  ?"  Be  entreated  to  ''  give  diligence  to  make 
your  calling  and  election  sure."  Let  the  principal 
business  of  life  be  preparation  for  eternity ;  and  in 
the  course  of  that  preparation  never  forget  these  two 
things  :  first,  that  to  be  saved,  you  must  believe  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  and,  secondly,  to  believe  in  him, 
you  must  come  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  earnestly  im- 
plore his  gracious  aids.  "  Faith  is  the  gift  of  God." 
You  have  but  to  ask,  and  you  will  receive  both  that 
Spirit  and  that  faith  ;  for,  says  our  Lord,  "If  ye  then, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your 
children,  how  much  more  shall  your  Father  who  is  in 
heaven  give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  him  ?"  Hear, 
then,  the  voice  from  heaven :  ''Ye  must  be  born 
AGAIN."  "  Awake  thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  from 
the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light."  O,  be 
persuaded,  without  farther  procrastination,  to  accept 
of  God's  great  salvation !  Think  of  the  shortness  of 
time,  and  of  the  evil  days  that  draw  nigh.  Remem- 
ber that  where  the  tree  falls  there  it  lies.  Arise  and 
record  this  as  your  holy  purpose:  I  will  go  to  the 


352  MOUNT    ZION    IN    HEAVEN. 

Father,  and  say,  "  I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and 
against  thee ;"  I  will  go  to  the  Son,  and  say,  ''  Have 
mercy  upon  me,  thou  son  of  David ;"  and  I  will  go  to 
the  Spirit,  and  say,  "  Sanctify  me  through  thy  truth, 
thy  word  is  truth."  Do  this,  and  do  it  now,  and  then 
the  best  robe  will  be  brought  forth  and  put  upon  you ; 
Redeeming  Love  will  embrace  you  in  her  arms :  and 
the  entrance  of  God's  word  will  give  you  light,  and 
guide  you  safely  home  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem. 


THE  END. 


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The  mountains  of  the  Bible  :  their 

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